Sherlock's Sister
by Allonsyintheimpalawithsherlock
Summary: As a young girl, Ann was taken away from her family, incidentally, the Holmes. Raised in a country across the sea, it's an unwelcome surprise when she finds Sherlock Holmes standing in her kitchen. As danger comes, Mycroft Holmes insists that she move to England to keep her safe. But there's no such thing as safe when James Moriarty is after her, and his three tests.
1. To Part Is Such Sweet Sorrow

PROLOUGE: TO PART IS SUCH SWEET SORROW

The time to die had come. Nobody would come and save me. They might try. But he had laid down an intricate trap, so all those that would dare try would indeed fail. I had accepted this as a fact. But accepting it doesn't make it any easier.

I tried not to cry. The gun was held against my chest, the cold metal biting through my thin clothes. My legs were tied, and my arms to the chair I was being held captive in. A dirty gag was in my mouth.

My captor seemed to be enjoying my pain. Blood was dripping down my face where he had hit me, slowly dribbling down my neck before soaking into my shirt.

The man laughed. It was a malicious, ruthless, horrible laugh. "_You _are going to die," He told me in a giddy tone, but it was nonetheless serious.

The room was dark and cold, with a periodic dripping in the far corner. Every second was a drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. But then there was a pause, as if someone, or something, had interrupted the flow. Hope filled my heart. Maybe I could be saved.

He leaned down to my eye level and pulled out my gag. "Any last words?" his breath was hot on my face.

"Goodbye." I replied, solemnly.

"That's it? That's all you want the world to remember your existence with? A single measly word? _'Goodbye?'"_

I nodded my head, but stayed silent.

"I honestly expected more of you. I did go through all the trouble of getting you here, after all. Or rather, my father did. All that pain and suffering as an experiment," he started to walk around the chair I was strapped to. "He wanted to know what would happen if you put a helpless little girl," he took out a knife and drew it across my cheek, and I felt warmth rolling down, "From her family," He sliced my other cheek, "and raise her separate from them, and see how it would all work out." He drew a line down the center of my nose. "Does that not make you angry?"

I didn't answer him; I stared straight ahead, and did not make a sound as he cut me again.

"Oh, come on, Ann, this was supposed to be exciting! I hardly ever do the dirty work. You should feel honored. But instead you feel that you should make this BORING!" he stabbed me in the leg, but where he knew it would take the longest amount of time for me to die.

I cried out in pain, and he smiled. "Ah. There she is." He stopped circling me and instead stood straight in front of me. "But if you're sure you want _goodbye,_" he spat the word, " to be your last word, then fine by me." He cocked the gun.

"But before that, I want to tell you something. _This was your last test, Ann," _he whispered in my ear. He looked around the room. "And it looks like you failed!" he shouted.

"But, do you know why you're going to die?" I didn't answer, and he hit me across the cheek with the gun. "Because, _stupid. _You're not needed here any longer. You reached your expiration date long ago. It's time to throw you away, and start a new one. _Goodbye, _Ann Holmes."

"See you later," I said, closing my eyes and tilting my head back.

"No, you won't," he sang. He put the gun directly over my heart, and a loud bang sounded. And suddenly, I was gone.

**So there you have it, the first "chapter" of my story. If anybody likes it, I guess I'll put more out for you to read! Sorry it's so dark and scary. But this is only a section. It's not all like this.**


	2. Intruders in the Night

INTRUDER IN THE NIGHT

I woke to the sound of my front door opening, and quiet footstep creeping in. I had always been a light sleeper, and so tonight I was grateful it wasn't my dog waking me. Silently I got out of bed and slid into my robe as I grabbed my gun, hidden in my underwear drawer.

I creeped out the door of my bedroom and into the hallway. I entered the living room, which was a jointed with the kitchen, where the intruder now was. He was pulling out one drawer after another, making an awful lot of noise. It seemed he wanted me awake. But I knew all of the sounds the drawers make when you pull them out. Each one makes a distinct rattle. He opened and closed all of them before stopping at the one containing knives. He started to pull one out then froze as I trained the gun on him.

Without looking up, but resuming his actions of removing the knife, he commanded, "Put the gun down." I didn't, and he drew out a long sigh before adding, "_Please," _I left it where was.

"I have every right to shoot you where you're standing," I told him. "Breaking and entering is a no-no anywhere. I could kill you right now."

"Fine." He looked up, and a startled expression grew on his face.

I'm sure my expression was just as startled. The reason: we both looked the same. Same eye color. The same curly, dark hair. The same prominent cheekbones, Nose, facial construction! We looked like twins.

And I could see it on his face that he knew it too. That we looked almost exactly alike. It could be a coincidence. Chances were that it wasn't.

I took a pair of handcuffs out of my robe pocket and he rolled his eyes.

"Must we?" He asked.

"We must." I cuffed one of his outstretched hands (while keeping my gun up) and made him follow me so I could cuff him to the balestry in the living room, which led upstairs.

He sat on the floor, tugging on the cuffs and looked slightly miffed at me as I sat in one of the chairs across the room. Looking in a drawer in the side table I pulled out a police document to start on the paper work.

"Name." I demanded.

He rolled his eyes again. "I will tell you nothing." He told me in a commanding tone.

"seriously." His silence that followed only proceeded to piss me more off. "Alrighty, then, we'll just do this the hard-"

I was interrupted by glass shattering upstairs. I instantly brought my gun up again and moved to the stairs. I looked at the man, "You stay quiet,"

He looked at me, and I could see fear in his eyes for some reason. "Don't go, Detective," observant little crook. "_He _is the reason I that I am in your house. So I am telling you, _do not go up those stairs." _He was standing up now, tugging on the cuffs.

"Quiet." I commanded, and then I started to make my way the stairs, slowly, to avoid any of the creaking steps.

As I looked around at the top of the stair way, I noticed a single door at the end of the hallway that was slightly ajar, and a small breeze blew out of it. I approached my office slowly and cautiously, my gun trained in front of me. I pushed the door open with the barrel of my gun, and entered.

And there stood a very nicely dressed man, looking out the window, and standing in a pile of broken shards of the window. He turned around as I entered, and his face twisted into a handsome smile. He had dark, slicked back hair, and in the dark, his eyes looked black. "Ann… pleasure to finally meet you myself…" and in reply I said nothing, but trained my gun on him.

"I mean, yes, I've heard a lot about you from my dad, who is the one who started it all, you can thank him; but I see you really do look and act the same…"

He reached into his jacket pocket and drew his own weapon at me, and it was then that I noticed the laser, all around the room at one point, all train at my chest.

"I really do make a point of not getting my own hands dirty, but ill make an exception for you. You see, my father is the one who started all this. He died a few months ago, bless his rotting heart, and I discovered a safe. Inside it, a file, and in _it, _were plans for you."

"That makes me sound special." I replied warily.

"Oh, but nobodies special. Not really. I suppose you could be though…" He shrugged. "the plans for you are simple. Either you die, or you don't. my Pops was betting on you dying, quite a few others did as well, actually. Your adoptive dad, for one. Mr. Joler."

I felt my cool and indifferent expression slip into one of surprise. It stayed less than a second before I returned to my previous expression. I had been closer to Mr. Joler than anyone I had ever known before he died.

"Oh, you think that he actually cared for you? That's precious. Well he was just one of my daddy's American friends who agreed to raise you to settle something of my fathers. My dear old dad wanted to see if you took a child away from its family, and reintroduce them while giving them three tests, and see what the outcome would be… not very many people thought you would even make it this far, I'm afraid… " He smiled suddenly. "But you joining the police force was a pleasant surprise if anything!"

His face turned to his previous seriousness. "I suppose we should get started on it then. This test is really the simplest, no planning whatsoever, really. But the outcome is either you die, or you don't. No middle ground here, Ann. And if you do die, then all this would be rather pointless, wouldn't it, Ann?" his eyes glinted dangerously.

"what's your name?" I found my voice.

"My name?" he sounded both surprised and pleased. "Moriarty. And about that test. I'm routing for you."

"What's the test?" I asked.

"This." And then he shot me, directly in the abdomen. It's true. I could die from this, or not. He stepped around me and went to the stairs. "But in all honesty, Ann, I think you'll fall."

I dropped to the floor, landing on my side. I tried to not go into shock. It didn't really work. But before I passed out, I heard a thumping. Somebody was coming up the stairs. Somebody leaned over the top of me and said, "It's alright, I've called the paramedics, don't go into shock, don't go into shock..." it was the man from downstairs.

"What's your name…?" I managed.

"Sherl-"and then I blacked out.


	3. The Rude Awakening

**Alright, guys! I just wanted to say thanks for the favorites and follow! And even if you just looked at it, maybe read through it, it still means a lot! I never expected it to get that many views, so I thank you all! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the show **_**Sherlock. **_**The rest, however, I made up, they are people of my own creation.**

**Also, I'm really sorry the chapters are so short! I know it always makes me upset when it's a really short chapter but it's a really good story, and you just want to quit reading. I promise I'll try to make them longer!**

**And you have no idea how happy it made me when I got my first review. I literally screamed in happiness. So please review what I could do to make it better, and what you think. Constructive criticism is what I'm looking for!**

**One more thing: I've been really nice to have given you the first three chapters within three days. Don't get used to it! I'm in a play at my school and basically everyday excepting weekends and Wednesdays am I there until 5 o'clock or even later. And my Wednesdays are spent working. So I might only start posing on the weekends, at least until my play is over.**

**Alright, thanks once again, guys! Enjoy this chapter! **

**CHAPTER THREE: THE RUDE AWAKENING**

I faded in and out of conscienceless for a long time. Most of the time, when I momentarily woke up, it was silence. Other times, there were conversations.

Every time I fell back into unconsciousness, there were no dreams. Only blackness. Which I was grateful for, as it gave me time to think. Mostly about who this "Moriarty" person was and what his three, or two, now, test for me were. Obviously I had to survive them.

So I slept on in my little dreamland, making my own plans for Moriarty.

"They say she lost a lot of blood. They don't know if she'll make it." I slowly woke up to a conversation, about me, it seems.

"She better make it. She and I had plans to go to a movie together this weekend."

"Of course she won't be out by weekend. Doctors are incompetent." Someone sighed.

"I never said she would be out by then, I just said we had plans!" someone shouted.

"Quiet, you'll wake her up." Someone shushed the shouting person.

"Whatever." The speaker sounded upset. "What we need to know Is who would hurt her like this…"

The more I woke up, the more my hearing did as well. Soon I was able to identify the voices, and someone pacing across the floor.

"I am compiling a list…" someone said in reply. It was the man from last night! Was it the next day? What did he say his name was? …Sherll?

"But who would do this to her? All the enemies she has are in jail, and even then, they did some nasty stuff, so they're still in there…" Lisa.

Lisa was my friend from the first ten minutes after I moved here. She was the one who gave me the push to start my career in the police field. She worked as a receptionist for the hospital, or at least one of the receptionists.

"I said, if had heard me before, that I am compiling a list. And the list will be drastically shortened when she decided to wake up so she can tell us who tried to murder her!" Sherll shouted.

Some left the room in a hurry after that, presumably Sherll.

Lisa sighed, and I felt a shift of weight at the end of the bed.

"She'll be alright, Lisa," some who I recognized as Brady comforted her. "You'll see."

Brady was my guy-friend, who I met through Lisa. He ran a little bakery a couple blocks from my house, and I always made sure to grab something to eat there before heading off to work. He was a good friend, and honestly, a _really _good baker.

"Well, she better be, I wasn't kidding about that movie. That book it was based off of was horrible and we've been needing something to laugh about lately, even before now." Lisa replied quietly, but determinedly, as if she had already decided I that I _would _be better.

The darkness started to slowly seep around me. I suppose it was the medication they gave me. I didn't want to fall asleep again, but knowing I had to heal, I stepped into it willingly.

There was no conversation as I woke up this final time. Instead, a heavy breathing sounded out. I tried to open my eyes and they slid open easily, like they should. At first the room was blurry, but it slowly came into clarity as I looked around at my situated room. Boring, white, and scarce of furniture, like any other hospital room.

Brady, I noticed, was resting on the chair next to me, arms crossed and head laying over them as he leaned over the railing of the bed. I wanted to wake and speak to him, but I could see dark bags under his eyes. I knew I was the cause of his lack of sleep.

Instead I look to the ceiling and day dreamed. I imagined what I would be doing right now if I wasn't strapped into multiple machines, and there wasn't a huge pain in my chest. What it would have been like if I had a real family. Or if I hadn't met Lisa, or Brady. Then I decided it would have sucked.

I looked over at the little clock on the bedside table. It read half past nine in the morning. Was it strange, that after all this time sleeping, I was still exhausted?

I looked back up at the ceiling, bored. As I looked for little images in the textured ceiling **(don't tell me you've never done this), **I thought of waking Brady up. But just as I was thinking that, a woman I had never seen before walked into the room.

She had a darker complexion, with happy, tight curls tucked back into a pony tail. She was wearing pink scrubs. She walked to the end of my bed without speaking and pulled out my chart, briefly flipping through it before putting it back and smiling at me.

"And how are you today, Ann?" she asked. I noticed that upon closer inspection that she had light bags under her eyes, and she sounded a little tired.

But instead of commenting on this I replied, "I suppose I'm alright. Ready to go home, for sure."

She smiled at me again, briefly, before turning serious. "Ann," she took a step toward me, "Someone from 'higher up,' demanded a blood test to be done between you and another person. Normally this wouldn't have been done without your consent, but I suppose this person has a lot of control…"

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked nervously.

"Well, your doctor was going to tell you this, but personally I think he's and idiot, so-"

"Hey!" the doctor decided to poke his head in the room at that very moment. He didn't look offended, though. He was smiling, as if he knew he was being teased.

"Get out of here, you dolt," she shooed him, "I was just about to tell her!"

"Just let me introduce myself, first!" he enthusiastically outstretched his hand to me, which I took. "Doctor D, Miss. Pleasure." He bowed then made his way out the door, but first called back, "Page me if you need anything!" Brady, in reply, snorted soundly in his sleep.

The nurse turned back to me with an exasperated look on her face. "See what I mean?"  
I laughed. She then, in turn, stuck out her own hand. "I'm Carlie, by the way." I took her hand and shook it.

"Anyway, Ann," she continued, "There's a reason I asked to talk to you. Ann, you have-"

She was interrupted by a dark complexioned man wearing pale green scrubs, who peeked his head around the corner of the door. "Baby, I know your with a patient right now, but I was wondering if-"

"Not now, James!" she replied angrily.

"I know, but-"

Then she started shouting at him in Spanish, all of which I understood, due to the fact that I grew up with a Spanish "step" grandmother. Among the multiple insults she threw his way, all of which James seemed to not understand, was _pig-headed-idiot-excuse-for-a-surgeon._

As I laughed, not bothering to hide it, James looked confused and Carlie turned to me happily. "_Usted entiende__español__?" _**(You understand Spanish?)**

"_Sí__, entiendo __español__" _**(Yes, I understand Spanish.) **I replied. She laughed, and together we shouted at James in Spanish until he left the room looking confused and scared, with a big 'NOPE' look on his face as he ran out.

After he left, she sat on the edge of the bed. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ann, he can be such an idiot sometimes. He and your doctor are closer than best friends, and I'm friends with both of them." She explained with a smile. Then she sighed, and turned serious. "Anyway, Ann, what i was trying to tell you earlier is that you have a real family. Two brothers, actually, and both parents. Apparently you were kidnapped as a baby, or as far as im aware. Theyre all from England, actually. Quite a ways away…"

"Yeah, it is…" i replied thoughtfully.

I wasn't really listening as she left the room. She said something about me needing space. I tried to comprehend what she had just said, btu thinking hurt my head at the moment, and soon I joined Brady in dreamland.

**There you have it, guys! If you're think that you recognize the nurse, surgeon, and doctor, you probably watched **_**Scrubs, **_**which I based them after, but as far as I'm aware, they will only appear in this chapter, maybe the next. I DON'T OWN SCRUBS EITHER GUYS. Just saying. Didn't mean to yell. And the next chapter will be up soon, but probably not tomorrow. Thanks for reading through! Please review! **


	4. The Idiots in the Hospital Room

THE IDIOTS IN THE HOSPITAL ROOM

When I woke up, it was to a conversation, seemingly about me.

"And since Ann woke up yesterday, there's a good chance she could go home tomorrow. Now, I'm not making any promises, but she has improved drastically since last Tuesday." It was my doctor. Doctor D, was it?

"Thank you so much," an older woman who I did not recognize answered.

Someone, probably the doctor, left the room and a conversation was brought up with those still in the room. Wanting to hear it whatever they had to say, I stayed quiet.

"She's going home with us soon, Sherlock, won't that be nice?" the same woman asked.

Sherlock? Was this the same person who had broken into my house? The one I had dubbed ever so graciously Sherll?

Sherlock, then, answered in a bunch of mumbles that I was positive no one in the room could distinguish.

"What's that? Speak up!" she replied.

He sighed before answering. I could_ hear _the eye roll. "Yes, mother, it is rather exciting to know that our _dear _sister who has been recently shot will be able to travel back to her home, where we will no doubt look after her every wish and whim until she is completely healed, and I'm _so _looking forward to bounding time, dear me!" he answered in a sarcastic tone. I suppressed a giggle at his answer.

There was a rustling of papers and a large thump, immediately after which Sherlock yelped. "I don't need your sarcastic little comments right now, Sherlock, it's hardly the time. And you be nice to her!" the woman scolded him. **(If you don't get the picture she just rolled up a magazine or something of the kind and hit him with it)**

"Yes, mum," Sherlock replied, sounding slightly sulky.

There was another thump from across the room and another man exclaimed, "What on _earth _was that for?!"

"Because I know what you were thinking, Mycroft!" She answered him. "And your dad will be getting the same treatment as you two when we get home."

Unable to resist any longer, I gave a dramatic and obviously fake yawn, stretched, and rubbed my eyes.

"Oh, Ann, you're awake!" She exclaimed. I opened my eyes and there stood a woman at the end of my bed with greyish white hair, with a hint of brown. She was wearing a slightly wrinkly (but pleasant) smile, and the exact same eyes as Sherlock and I have. I noted her facial composition and noted that we didn't look very much alike.

"Very convincing, Ann," Sherlock mumbled from across the room. I smiled and shrugged before looking to the other end of the room, where Mycroft, or who I assumed was, standing. I noted that he generally looked like their, our, mother, with their more well-rounded face sand slim noses and brownish hair.

I rolled my eyes at Sherlock and looked at my bedside table. Surprisingly, I found my laptop sitting on top of it. Pulling it on top of my lap, I flipped it opened and waited impatiently while it turned on, all while my biological mother bombarded me with questions about how I was. I wasn't really listening to the questions as I broke into the hospitals Wi-Fi account, just answering the questions by the sound of tone.

I pulled open Chrome and logged into Google. I heard a pause in the questions, and someone with a deeper voice asked something, to which I responded "Yes."

"Ann?" someone asked, gaining my attention.

I quickly typed my search into the search bar before looking up as I hit enter. "Hmm?"

It turns out it was Sherlock who asked the question. He smirked at me before repeating the question. "I _said, _'Who shot you?'"

"Oh, you know that," I waved him off, turning back to the screen, and scrolled though my search results. "Moriarty did it, you said you were running from him or something- who the heck is Richard Brooks?" I asked, interrupting myself. "He's everywhere and-" Before I could continue, Sherlock stood up and stole my computer before sitting down with it and sharing a worried glance between my other two present family members.

Mycroft shook his head, obviously communicating something with his eyes, and I noticed that mother had gone starch white, staring worriedly at Sherlock. Obviously I did something to pull this effect from them. Sherlock scrolled through my search results and occasionally muttering a swear word, to each one, he got another thump on the head, each one ignored.

"What's the matter, Sherlock? Use your big boy words," Mycroft teased the younger brother, seeming to catch onto my alarm, and he was trying to pull my attention away from it.

Sherlock looked up at him, with big, round, sad eyes. "The Queen is dead, Mycroft,"

I saw mother roll her eyes but Mycroft let loose a giant "What?! The Queen is dead?!"

"No, of course not, as far as I'm aware you still have a pulse." Okay, wait. Did he just compare his brother to the Queen? "Get off my case, Mikey." Sherlock shifted his gaze back to the computer.

Mycroft sneered and turned his attention to his phone, leaning up against the wall. Instead, his mother stepped forward and asked, "What is it, then, Sherlock?"

He waved her off and typed in a few commands, clicked the mouse pad, and typed a few more things in before returning the computer to me, then made a movement that I could only assume was deleting his internet history. "You're welcome." I shot at him as he handed back the computer.

For curiosity's sake I decided to search Sherlock, but I needed my new last name. "Hey," I called out, gaining their attention, "What's our last name?"

The mother smiled before answering. "Holmes." She replied before turning back to her book.

I had heard that somewhere, where had I heard it… I mumbled thanks before typing his name into the search engine. I waited for it to load, and to my surprise, over millions came up. As I scrolled through the list, one caught my eye. The title read: _**Sherlock Holmes **__Takes a Fall. _I opened it up and it was all about **(See **_**Sherlock, **_**seasons or series one to two, not three quite yet (honestly I'm kind of lazy so I didn't write it out. You get the gist.)). **I read through the whole article, and the very last thing in it was a picture of his reflective black gravestone. "Oh my gosh," I mumbled not to quietly, and the trio looked at my expectantly.

I racked my brain to come up with an excuse. I looked at my computer screen, saw that it was Monday now, and remembered how the LEGO MOVIE was coming out last weekend. It looked adorable, and I was slightly looking forward to seeing my favorite child's toy in action. "I missed the opening of the LEGO MOVIE!" I tried to sound outraged, but it came out sounding kind of sheepish. Sherlock looked at me as if I was bacteria growing in a petri dish, and Mycroft did the same. The mother went back to her reading, unconcerned. I smiled nervously before shutting down the computer and placing it where I had found it.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

THE FIRST NIGHTMARE (Oh, goody, two chapters in one!)

It hadn't really happened before then. I usually don't scare easily, so it was strange to have them, the nightmares.

It was different every time I had the nightmare. Sometimes Moriarty was replaced by Brady, or Lisa, or someone else I cared about. Or they would want me to survive but would shoot me in the head or heart. In every combination I died, either totally terrified but holding it all in, or screaming, unlike what really happened.

The first night of nightmare was the worst, though. The trio containing the mother, Sherlock, and Mycroft had just left and I was alone in the room. I slowly fell asleep again to the lights blinking out the window in the dark city, and the sounds of the machines that I was hooked up to.

He had broken into my house the exact same way, although Sherlock was not bounded to the stairs like in reality. We had met the same way. But he took my questions the wrong way. He gagged and and tied me to a chair, all while I kicked and fought him.

"I don't think you're strong enough, actually. I think you'll die. All my hard work will be lost. But actually, it doesn't matter. Why keep your prize if it's hardly strong enough to survive?" Sherlock spat at me.

He looked evil. His eyes were growing maliciously, and he smiled as he spoke, like he took pleasure in hurting me. He was dressed like Moriarty had been, wearing a very nice suit and had his hair slicked fabulously.

"You have darkness around you, Ann, can't you feel it? You are no angel. There will be no honor in your death."

I spat out the gag he had in my life without much difficulty. "There may be darkness around me, but mine is pure white compared to your cloud of pitch black around you."

He slapped me hard across the face. "Truer words have never before been spoken."

"If you're trying to make me scared, I don't scare easily," I told him.

"No, no, of course not. That would be ridiculous. I'm trying to make you see the earth, Ann. Your death will rid the world of one more horrid creature. Your death will be a blessing to all!" he spat in my face.

"And who are you to decide that? You, creature of darkness? You, who has sided with the devils?" I spat back at him.

"I'm not. I didn't decide this for you. The devil himself sent you and I here to carry out his plans. I'm just the messenger." He replied seriously, before shooting me straight through the brain.

I cried out when I woke from the horrendous nightmare, but nobody was there. I wiped my forehead, which was covered in a layer of cold sweat. I needed comfort, something I hadn't needed in a while, I realized. But nobody stayed the night with me anymore, now that I was getting better.

So instead of sobbing into someone's arms while they held me, I sobbed quietly to myself, like I had been doing my whole life.

**So there you have it, another day another chapter. I gave you two chapters because I have late play practice all next week, so I might not be able to post as often as you'd like. Sorry if I'm not really sticking to their characters, that's never really been a good point for me. And also, I'd like to thank my good friend Elysia for giving me the idea for Sherlock's Sister, starting from her name, to Annalise, to Ann. And also inspiring Lisa, which is my nickname for her. Thanks for reading! Review!**


	5. Chapter 5: THE LONG WAY HOME

**Authors note:**

**Sup' bro's? How's it hangin'? Anyway, next week is all my performances for my play! So I have no excuse (unless I tell you otherwise) to leave you hanging. But I'll probably go to once a week. And also, I'm working on a SuperWhoLock story, and I don't mean to brag but it should be PRETTY awesome… anyway just let me know if you want some of dat as well, but I won't give up on this story! Don't be shy to let me know, by the way, I don't really want to write for just one person… any way, let me know!**

** And I don't know If I mentioned that she has a dog, but if I did I want to change it to two dogs. The more the friendlier. **

THE LONG WAY HOME

Finally, they day had come when I was able to return to my humble abode. I was helped into a wheelchair by Carlie, and then wheeled me out to the front door of the hospital, where Brady was casually leaning up against his bright yellow oldie bug, trying to look cool, with his sunglasses on though it was cloudy and his collar all popped up and his cheek bones all cool. He smiled as I came out, and moved forward to help me from the chair. I said goodbye to Carlie as I leaned on Brady for support. He helped me into his car, and off we drove.

As we started on the drive home, about halfway through, he brought me to an ice-cream place, one that we occasionally went to. They have really good ice-cream, but what I really liked was their sorbet. They had three different flavors, lime, orange, and raspberry. My favorite was the lime. Honestly, when I first tried it, I wasn't sure I'd like it. It had this weird texture when you had your first spoonful, because you weren't used to it, but it was delicious.

When we arrived back at my house, both of us still nibbling on our ice-cream/sorbet, Brady because he was driving, and me because I was I wanted to savor it. Brady was rushing out of the car to open the door and help me out of it, but not wanting to feel useless, I opened it and left it myself. I walked up to the house alone, ice-cream in hand, with Brady trailing not far behind me.

I threw open the door to my house, and I noticed three figures sitting or standing before a great furry mass pounced against my shoulders. "Jack!" I laughed as my Pyrenean Mountain Dog nearly knocked me over. I noticed the people stand up in alarm, but I ignored them, happy that my dog had missed me. "Lucy!" I shouted out, searching for my tan pug. I gently I pushed Jack away when he started to lick my face. I noticed the little pug jumping off the couch and making her way to me. I gently kneeled down and tried not to put stress on my wound. Using one hand, keeping my sorbet above my head, I greeted the over excited dog.

Someone cleared their throat behind me. Sighing, because I knew exactly who it was, I stood up, brushing the dog hair off of me. Without bothering to straighten my back as I usually would with near strangers in my house, I turned to face them. It's sad, really. I should begin to think that people just assume they're allowed in my house. It's outrageous.

"Mycroft." I stuffed some sorbet in my mouth. "Always a pleasure. But, seeing as I'm supposed to be healing from this 'traumatic' episode I've just had, I'm going to bed." I turned to walk down the hall to my room, both dogs in tow.

"Ann-." Mycroft started again.

"I'm healing!" I yelled back. "Bye, Brady, thanks for the ice-cream!"

"You're welcome…" he called back, voice filled with uncertainty, just as I slammed the door to my room and locked it.

I layed down in my bed, and the dogs jumped up after me. I snuggled down into my blankets, which looked like they had been recently cleaned. I inhaled deeply and discovered that whoever washed them had used my favorite scent. I turned on the light on my bedside table, picked up a book, which happened to be the _Lord of the Rings_, and read until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. About 9 o'clock.

I woke up with a start, crying out slightly. Another nightmare. Lucy woke up with me and snuggled deeper into my side. I sighed, discovering that I was thirsty. I left the bed and threw on a robe. Lucy and Jack followed me as I exited the room. I noticed that the guest room door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open to see who was using it, I saw that Sherlock was asleep in the bed. I sighed at the sight, because honestly, he looked like a child, none of the harshness that usually made its way into his face was absent. I left the room and continued down the hall.

The lights that were above the kitchen and living room were on, and stepping into it, I saw that Mycroft and the mother were in there, Mycroft sitting on a bar stool at the counter, and the woman behind it, doing something that looked like frosting a cake. They weren't discussing anything, it was just silence. Only sort of awkward.

At the sound of my footsteps, they both looked up. The mother smiled softly, and turned back to frosting the cake. Mycroft however, kept his eyes on me. "Ah, Ann. Sit down. We need to discuss what we didn't get the chance to last night."

I rolled my eyes, and instead of sitting, I went into the kitchen I filled a clean cup with water. And then I stood, at which Mycroft sighed. "Ann, as you know, we are all very concerned about your health, which is why I made the decision to-"

"Honestly, Mycroft! _You _made the decision?" The mother looked up from the cake.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Yes, may I go on with telling her?" When she didn't answer, he took it as a "Go on." "_We, _have made the proactive decision to have you move to England, so-,"

"What?!" I shouted. "I'm going nowhere!" she heard a groan from the other room, Sherlock was awake.

"Let me finish. You will be allowed to-,"

"_Allowed?" _I screeched.

He continued on as If he hadn't heard me. "Bring your _beasts _along, if you so wish. However, you will not be allowed to bring all of your personal items with you. So pick and choose what you like more."

"I'm not moving to England! Everything I love is here!" I shouted back.

"You will move to England, it is the only place to keep you safe!" he stood up and met my eye. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Sherlock was making his way in.

"I was safe here until Sherlock decided to break into my house!" I turned to face Sherlock, "And I still haven't decided whether or not I'm pressing charges. No offense."

"None taken." He rubbed his jaw and plopped on the couch, lying on his back.

"You will take me nowhere." I stated, turning back to Mycroft.

"If you consider all the possibilities, you're allowed to bring your dogs, and you will be able to see your 'friends', if not often. What's not to like?"

"Mycroft told me to so I don't want to."

"I think we'll get along just fine," Sherlock laughed.

"So help me, Ann, I will _force _you to go!" Mycroft shouted.

The mothers jaw dropped. "MYCROFT!" she exclaimed.

I turned my "death ray" glare on first blast and stared him down. Sherlock sat up. "Mycroft, is it bad that even _I _know that you never say that to an angry woman?"

Mycroft started to look nervous. "Yes, it probably is…"

I approached Mycroft, and with each emphasized word I jabbed at his chest. "_I _am going to download a picture of _your _face, and I'm going to go downstairs, and I'm going to _throw knives at it."_

As I thudded down the stairs, I heard the mother chuckle. "You're both idiots…"

I walked in to the largest room in the whole house, which instead of being converted into multiple rooms, the previous owner had kindly left it one, large, room, but with a small bathroom in the corner. I had hung a thick slab of both plywood and drywall. I had hung multiple targets for my knife throwing. I brought out my new set of throwing knives, and picked one up in my hand, testing the weight.

With a twist of the wrist, I threw it aginst the wall, hitting dead center on one of the smaller targets. I threw the remaining nine, all hitting center. Wanting new targets, she went over to a cabinet and pulled out three new targets, two in the outline of people, and one a large target. She also took out a large sharpie.

Over target number one she drew a sketch of Mycroft's face, his expression angry, over the face, and in thick bold letters wrote MYCROFT on the top. On target number two, she drew Sherlock's face, expression neutral. On the last, she drew a sketch of England.

She hung them up, and pulled the knives from the wall. She went to the cabinet again and pulled out her old set, so she didn't have to stop and collect the knives so often. She stepped behind the line of tape and let the first knife fly. It hit the target, which was Mycroft's forehead.

Her next knife veered slightly to the left; she was aiming for Sherlock's heart. She swore, upset. She threw another knife, aiming for where London was located in England.

Getting more upset, she threw a knife randomly at the wall. Reaching for another one, she threw it about two feet to the right of the original. She decided to turn it into a frowny face, using the blue knives for the eyes (her old ones) and her purple ones (new) for the mouth. Using the remaining eight knives, I threw them at the spots where I had left up the targets, all hitting or just missing. When I had three left on the table beside me, I heard a two light pairs of footsteps making their way down, along with one heavy one.

Not bothering to look up, as I knew who they were, I waited until they had reached the bottom of the stairs before I threw the remainder. I threw one at Mycroft's drawn heart, and the second to ake a nose for the frownie face. Then I turned to the group, and stared down Mycroft. I reached for the final knife, and without looking, I threw it. And by the look on the real Mycroft's face, which looked nervous, I knew that my memory had served correct, and that the knife had met its mark. I had thrown in it into the drawn Mycroft face.

I stepped up to Mycroft, glaring me down. "_You will force me to do nothing." _And I tromped up the stairs.

As I made my way up, I had Sherlock ask Mycroft, "Do you think there's a reason behind all the knives finding their way to you?"

"I do believe there is." The reply came, dryly.

Suddenly exhausted, I went back to my room, dogs waking up and padding after me from the living room. I crawled back into my covers after making sure to lock the door. I instantly fell asleep with the companionship of my dogs, into a, thankfully, soundless sleep.


	6. DISSCUSSING WITH ORANGE ROLLS

**Alright, so so far nobody has wanted any SuperWhoLock. Have more in that one written out in that one than this, and who knows, maybe it will be better. Ann will not be in that one, I am only creating one new main character for that. Seriously! Let me know! **

**And in reply to VioletErin.26, the reason she acts so different from the Holmes brothers is because she was raised separate from them. She acts as "normal" as she can. She does still have the ability to deduce like Sherlock and Mycroft, and that will come into effect later. If you recall from the from the second chapter you'll note that she is a detective, she works for the police force. So, while she wears her heart on her sleeve, she maybe more similar than it seems. Headstrong included.**

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

DISSCUSSING WITH THE ORANGE ROLLS

I woke up and, rubbing my eyes, I sat up in my bed to get a clear look at my clock. A little bit past noon. Feeling fully rested, I threw the covers off of my legs and made my way to the bathroom. As I brushed the horrid taste out of my mouth, a wonderful smell met me. I quickly finished brushing my teeth, and as I rinsed them, I began to understand what the smell was. I quickly threw on a robe and made my way out of the room, nose following the scent.

Oranges and sweet bread. Someone was making orange rolls. They were one of my favorite pastries. They're the perfect balance between sweet and citrus, warm and gooey, deliciousness on a silver platter. Pulling my hair up into a ponytail, I peeked into the guest bedroom while I walked past, and to my delight, found no one in there. I continued to the kitchen.

I found Brady in the kitchen, which was spotless, for once (I mean by which it is almost constantly covered in different experiments using chemicals; (I read in that article that Sherlock used real body parts. Gross, but to be honest, fascinating)), mixing an orange tinted glaze. He didn't look like he was completely focused. While he was mixing it, his hand was doing all the work, but his mind was obviously elsewhere.

He didn't seem to notice me as I came in, still in his "la-la" land. "Are you alright?" I asked him.

He looked up, noticing me for the first time. "Hello. Sleep well?" He asked with a smile, either missing or ignoring my question.

"Yup." I replied simply as I went and sat down at the same barstool that Mycroft had sat in last night, or this morning, I suppose.

The timer, which was shaped like an anatomically correct heart, binged, and he opened the oven to take out what I assumed were the rolls. "How are you feelin', Ann?" He asked.

"Fine."

He gave me a pointed look. "I _know _you, Ann. something's wrong."

"In all honestly?"

"Well, yeah," he replied.

I sighed. "Not good. It's hard to have a family you know nothing about. It's physically and mentally exhausting! I'm tired of trying. They-."

"You're tired of trying?!" Brady laughed. "You've only spoken to them twice!"

I glared at him, and he raised his hands in a sort of surrender. I continued ranting. "They don't even like me! They sneer at me like I'm the most idiotic person on earth, and obviously I'm not, just look at the other police men and women I work with! Idiots! _And _Mycroft is insisting that I move to England! We _just _met, and he already thinks that he control me! It's infuriating!"

He seemed to soak in all this information as it came out of my mouth. After a moment of silence that was only filled with the scraping of the spatula on the metal pan, as he scooped up the rolls and put them on a cooling rack, he turned to me and asked, "Well, what do you think of them?"

"The mother, I'm not quite ready to call her 'mom,' yet, is pretty cool. She knows how to handle her boys. Mycroft," I groaned, "Is a whole different story. He's rude and arrogant and thinks he knows better than everybody else, and- _urgh!" _

"What about Sherlock?" He placed a slightly cooled roll on a plate and drizzled glaze on it. "What about Sherlock?" He pushed the plate toward me.

I took a large bite and chewed as I thought. I swallowed, and then answered. "I don't know what I think about him. I want to compare him to Mycroft, but…" I picked up the roll and took another large bite.

"Have you met your dad? I haven't seen him." Brady pondered, serving up a half a dozen rolls and placing it in front of us, taking a small plate and a roll to himself.

I finished up my roll. "No… he's still in England. But if he is anything like these guys I'm going to go crazy."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, chewing on his orange roll. He turned to me, swallowed, then said, "Alright. I'm going to say something, and you probably won't like it, but I need you to not say anything while I explain myself, alright?" I nodded, nervous to know what he had to say. "Promise?" I nodded again. "Alright. I think that you should take his offer and move to England."

I opened my mouth angrily to retort but just as I did, he stuffed another orange roll in my mouth. I glared at him as I took a bite of the deliciousness. "You promised." He took a deep breath. "Ann, for reason one, you've always wanted to travel. Especially England. Now you get to travel there, probably expense free, with Jack and Lucy, and probably first class, maybe even on a private plane. Have you ever looked up Mycroft Holmes?"

I shook my head at him, remembering the promise. "Well, neither have I, but I'm pretty sure he's rich. His car is awesome. "He took another deep breath. "Second, my bakery is just now getting popular. I'm going to have to hire another person to help out. That means I'm going to start making extra money. I should be able to come see you, if not often. And third," He looked at me straight in the eyes, "You've just found out that you have family. Your _real _family. You don't have to jump from foster home to foster home. You've found your family."

"Mr. Joler was good family. He was always nice to me." I intervened, thinking his was finished.

"Ann, you went to him when you were 17. You left the house when you were 19, and sure, you might love him, but what about the twenty-two other families who threw you out?" Brady recalled sadly.

I snorted. "They were all idiots, and had no appreciation for science. They were just frogs, and the occasional large rodent, but _no, _apparently they're disgusting creatures not to be allowed into the house!" Note that I mentioned that Sherlock uses human parts. I would use them, and still would, if the coroner allowed it. However, because of this, i sadly stick to animals that come pre-dead.

"Exactly, Ann! And Sherlock uses _human,"_ he winced visibly. "which I know you've been trying to get your hands on for years! So maybe you're not so different. Maybe you just need time to adjust."

"I…" I looked away from his gaze. "I'll think on it. I'm going to take Jack and Lucy on a walk." I hopped of the barstool and let the eager dogs in from the backyard.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked, standing up straight.

"No, no," I walked back to my room quickly, throwing on some sweats and a comfortable t-shirt. "I'll go on my own. I'll take my phone, so just call me if you need anything." I connected the harnesses to the dogs and put on their leashes as well. I pulled on my shoes. "I just need time to… adjust… like you said." With a wave, I disappeared through the front door, being eagerly pulled on by the two dogs.

**Normal POV**

As soon as Ann left the house, and knowing she wouldn't be back for a while, Brady pulled out his phone to make a quick call. He didn't need to type in the number, it was the first speed-dial option. With a smile, he put the phone up to his ear.

"Helloooo?" a voice questioned.

"I've got some happy news for you," Brady told the man on the other end of the line.

"And what is it?"

"I've convinced Ann to move to Britain. Of course, she doesn't know herself that she's going. But I can tell you. She most definitely will."

A happy laughter came from the other end of the line. "And you're sure on this? Oh, this _is _happy news!"

"Yes, sir, I thought that you would particularly enjoy it."

"Well done, Moran. It will be a pleasure to have you _and _another toy in London."

Brady laughed. "Anything for you, James."


	7. CONFESSIONS ARE FOR IDIOTS

CONFESSIONS

The next few days after that were stormy, no sun whatsoever. But on the fifth day, the sun was bright and its usual millions of degree, but here on earth it was a nice 72 degrees with a beautiful breeze. So, in honor of this nice day, Brady, Lisa, the dogs, and I decided to go to the park across the street. We packed a lunch, I provided the sodas, Brady the cakes, an Lisa the sandwiches. .Lisa, upon arriving, spread out a large picnic blanket while Brady nailed a stack into the ground and connected the dogs leases to it, so they could still run around while we sat.

"It's such a nice day…" I sighed, sipping an orange flavored soda.

"And especially welcome, too, after all those wet days…" Lisa replied.

We sat together in comfortable silence, munching on the cake and sandwiches. Brady finished off his sandwich and wiped the crumbs on his pants.

"So, Ann," Brady wiped, "Have you told them yet?"

"Told who what?" I asked with a full mouth. I swallowed and took a sip of my soda.

"Did you tell them that you're going with them?" Lisa asked vaguely, but sadly, I understood what she was talking about.

"Argh!" I fell back onto the blanket, nearly knocking over my drink in the process, but this is me, being difficult. "No!" I lifted my head to look at Lisa. "And how do you know about that? I didn't tell you!"

Lisa and Brady shared a familiar worried glance, which of course I noticed. I ran my hands over my face, leaving them on my cheeks and glaring at the two of them from behind my fingertips.

"Ann, you have to go," Lisa told me. "Your family lives there, and if you decided that you don't want to stay, you could always come home after a while."

I covered my face with my hands completely. "I don't want to go!" I whined, pulling myself into a sitting position, and letting my hands fall into my lap.

I noticed that Brady started to get nervous… worried… about me? No, he was the one supporting me in this… "But…" he started, looking at me.

"There isn't a 'but.'" I told him firmly.

"There is _always _a 'but' with you." He replied, giving me a look.

"There isn't one this time." I insisted.

"Ann." Brady said fiercely, looking at me in the eyes. "Why do you not want to go?"

I sighed, coming to the conclusion that it would be easier to just tell them. "Fine! Mycroft told, _commanded, _me to go, and the reason I don't want to is because if I agree to go with him outright, then he'll think I'm weak, and that he can boss me around, no questions asked, forever!"

Brady and Lisa shared another look before bursting out in loud laughter. "That's what this is all about? Nobody can control you, Ann, not even your eldest brother.

"Ann," Lisa smiled. "Mycroft has his own conditions for you moving to England. Why don't you make a few of your own?"

Why didn't I think of that?! Oh, I'm such an idiot… I've been so distracted lately… Well, screw it. I've always wanted to go to Europe, and this is the perfect opportunity to go, for _free _no less!

"Fine." I said, taking a sip of my soda. "I'll go."

Brady and Lisa high-fived each other happily. "Teamwork!" they shouted at the same time.

I rolled my eyes, finished my soda, and began packing up the lunch. Brady and Lisa started to help, but they were mostly excited about the adventures we'd all be having in London, when they came to visit. After a few minutes, we pulled out the stake, grabbed the dog's leashes and began heading back to my home.

There was a fancy black car sitting in the drive way next to my old, but reliable, previously purple, rusty truck, making it look like it wouldn't even run. I rolled my eyes angrily and stomped up the drive way, expecting the worst. I threw open the door and unlocked Lucy and Jack from their harnesses and they went to greet the people. Following their lead, I straightened my back and stood up.

I closed the door once I knew Brady and Lisa were inside. I turned to face the group while saying, "Maybe you should come over when I'm home. You won't have to break in that way." I plopped into the comfiest recliner.

"Please. What do you take me for?" Mycroft smiled. "I copied Lisa's key."

I turned in my seat to look at Lisa, who looked just as surprised as I'm sure I did. "Well, though it's not technically _breaking _and entering, you did still make an illegal duplication of my house key. I could have you arrested."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "The last time you threatened to arrest someone did not end well, did it?"

And while I was glaring angrily at him, he turned to Brady and Lisa. "If you don't mind, leave. We must speak to Ann. Alone."

I stood up in outrage. I was about to yell at him, but I noticed their expressions and closed my mouth. They weren't angry at being miss-treated. No, very different, in fact.

Lisa smiled at him and said, "You know, there's a slim chance that if you're nice to people they might actually like you, or not be bothered by your presence. But probably not."

Brady was smirking smugly. "You probably also know that if you want more of the cake I make, then you should be kind to the one who bakes it." He nodded at me, grabbed Lisa's hand, and left the house through the door.

I settled back into the chair and reclined it. "What."

"In two hours, we're going to dinner."

"Good. Bring me back some sorbet." I grabbed the book off of the coffee table and started reading.

"And you," he continued, pushing the book out of my face, "are coming with us."

I gave him a sarcastic smile. "Where are we going?"

"The Marie."

I knew the restaurant and snorted. The food was _decidedly _not worth the price; I solved a murder case using their food once, and there were _definitely _rats in the basement. "We will _not _go there."

Mycroft glared at me angrily, and his mother looked between us nervously. "And _why not?"_

"Because the food sucks." I answered honestly.

"Then why don't we go to the place that I said might be good? That Regina-something-or-other restaurant?"

"_That _restaurant attracts all the wrong types of people. Food poisoned a few as well."

"Then what do _you _suggest?" Sherlock asked from across the room.

And suddenly I knew the _perfect_ place. Time to teach these Brits how to eat like an American. I smiled at them. "Oh, I have the _perfect _place. However, I just had lunch, so we'll leave in a few hours, probably around four or five." I stood up. "It's about an hour away, but," I sighed in anticipation, "It is _ssooooo _worth the drive. Wear something you wouldn't mind getting messy in." My mouth watered even _thinking _about the food.

"And where exactly is this restaurant?"

"Please. What do you take me for?" I put my hands on my hips while I used his words against him. "If I tell you, no matter how good the food is, you'll refuse to go."

"By you saying that makes me want to refuse to go."

"Whatever. You wanted to have a dinner as a 'family,'" I used my fingers as quotations marks to get my point across, "And I'm the only one who knows the area and restaurants in it to make a decision about which ones are good and which ones are bad! And I'm going to this particular restaurant only. So suck up your ego, Mycroft, because that's where we're going."

I spun around and stalked out the sliding glass door to the backyard, dogs racing after me all excited.

When I first moved to this house, I never went into the backyard; I never had a reason to, because I had no dogs. There was a huge tree in the backyard, and when I went out to read underneath It one day, I discovered a tree house. I walked around the base of the tree, trying to find a way up. But seeing none, I made a quick trip to the hardware store and purchased a few heavy stakes and a large rubber mallet.

When I got back I nailed them into the tree and used them as a type of step ladder. I sat the mallet down in the long un-mowed grass and began my assent up the tree. I discovered that the floor had no holes in it whatsoever. But the downside to finding this was it had no walls and no roof, not even a railing. So over the next few weeks I built walls, a roof, which covered with a tarp, and multiple shelves. I brought up a small table and a fold up chair to use in it.

Over the three years that I have lived here, the shelves have filled up with many books, a sort of library, if you will, and I connected a power cord to it, so I could have a lamp, a space heater, and a charger for my laptop.

So I climbed up the stakes and grabbed my laptop, pulling it onto my lap. A few days before now, I purchased and installed some spy cameras that picked up sound as well. I opened up the one corresponding with the living room. Mycroft looked pissed to say the least.

"That insufferable girl is going to be the end of us!" he shouted.

Whoa, what?

"Mycroft!" shouted the mother.

"How do you think the press is going to react to her, hmm? A new Holmes? They'll go crazy! She'll be more popular than Sherlock, and he's the one who faked his suicide when everyone was calling him a fake! But she even has some of our abilities! How do you think they'll respond to that?!" he shouted

"Well, we just won't introduce her right away, what London doesn't know won't hurt it." She replied calmly to his uncharacteristic outburst.

I was surprised – I realized that Sherlock would be rather "Famous," – he had his own website, but Mycroft too? And just why would I be popular? I watched the screen as he continued.

"And why do we even want her to be a part of our family?"

Sherlock, I noticed was looking around the room for something. He ran his finger along the side table and rubbed it together with his thumb. He looked over to where the camera hid, inside of the small live tree in the corner. He stepped over to it and started looking for the camera. "Mycroft," he tried to get his attention.

"22 other families didn't want her! Why should we?"

Honestly, I don't know what to think of that comment. When your own family doesn't want you, what are you supposed to feel? Anger? Sadness? Depression? Or relief?

"Mycroft!" Sherlock tried again with an insistent voice. He had located the camera, and over half of his face took up the screen.

Mycroft ignored him and continued on his hurtful rant. "I don't know why we want her! How could you get _kicked out of 22 foster homes?! _I mean, Sherlock could do it, but she's an idiot, and-"

Sadness. I definitely feel sadness for my own family not wanting me. I slammed my laptop closed with angry tears streaming down my face. I left the table and hurriedly wiped off the tears, and when no more came, I stepped down the ladder. I slowly slid open the back door and only Sherlock and his mother noticed that I came in. Mycroft was still ranting.

"You're being very out of character today, Mycroft," Sherlock said all while looking at me. "You never raise your voice."

Mycroft snorted. "There! Another reason to leave her here and-" he noticed that instead of the eyes in the room being focused on him, they were focused on something behind him, me. The room went silent, everyone waiting to see how I'll react.

But smiling is the best revenge, I heard from somewhere. So I smiled, though I know it didn't reach my eyes. "Well, then," I said stepping into the room, "I suppose its about time to let you know that I dislike you very much as well, Mikey."

"I never said-"

"And, I want you to know now, that whenever I fell like it, I could just kill you." Their mother raised her eyes at that, but Sherlock smirked.

"How?" he scoffed. "You're a gir-"

I stalked across the room and before anyone could blink, I had him on his chest on the floor, my hands pinning his arms painfully behind his head, and my knee in the small of his back.

"You don't know what it's like!" I shouted, and tears threatened to spill. "To be sent away from your first house is the worst thing that could _EVER _happen to a four year old! And every time they send you away after that it just gets worse and worse because you know that your chances of finding a real home are limited already! Each house they would send me to, hoping that, by a chance, someone would want me, I would have a little bit of hope in my chest. And each time I was sent away that hope died, and so did a little piece of me with every slamming door. It's a miracle I'm not as twisted as you right now.

"Every night at the foster home, I would stay awake at night, just _hoping _that my real family would come and rescue me. But instead they kept trying to match me up with hopeful families, and I just ended up getting more broken inside!" The dam broke and salty tears dripped slowly down my face.

"But do you want to know the real reason I got kicked out?" I twisted his arm tighter and he grunted in pain. "It wasn't because I brought rats and frogs in to the house, no. It was because I was a smart, opinionated kid. Really smart. But apparently that wasn't attractive to them. They wanted a _normal _kid, with _average _grades. I was kicked out of 22 homes because of my _intelligence level. _Actually, on 13 for being smart. I stopped trying and caring." I twisted his arm further.

"So imagine my surprise when Mr. Joler comes, and weeks, a month, a _year _came and he didn't get rid of me. He was family. I wouldn't dream of calling him anything else. But he was murdered when I was twenty. Four years I spent with him. His was the first murder I ever solved.

"And I had dreams about meeting my real family," I took my knee out of his back and stood up, wiping the tears from my face. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered that my real family doesn't want me either! I mean, I'm used to being unwanted, but this is a whole new level of hurt I have yet to conquer."

"Are you quite done?" Sherlock asked from across the room, looking indifferent.

"Oh, yes, I'll have to threaten Mycroft more often, it was refreshing." I got myself a cup of water and Mycroft stood up and brushed himself off. He looked at me differently than before. With pity.

"I don't need your pity." I growled at him, over the edge of my cup. But knowing that now we had important family issues because of me; know we had to discuss them. "Dinner is still on. Don't think that it was ever off." And I walked to my room, and shut the door behind me.

**Sorry it took me so long to post guys. First I had no time to write because of my performances, then I was feeling unimaginative, but it's finally up! I also posted that SuperWhoLock story, the first chapter is up. The chapters for that are going to be longer for this, more things happen, too. Anyway, give that a try. And I don't know what it's like being shipped around to new families that don't want you, guys. Just thought I'd tell you. I think it would be really hard to deal with, so I kinda' put that into words. Please review!**


	8. OLD FAMILY AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES

OLD FAMILY AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES

Three hours after I declared dinner still on, and after finishing a new book,I decided that if I wanted to look presentable, I would get my lazy butt out of bed, which I did. I stripped out of my clothes and took a quick scalding hot shower. I wrapped my hair up in a towel and while it dried I got dressed in a dark purple shirt and a pair of deep blue skinny jeans.

I brushed my hair while I turned on Pandora, switching it to my movie music channel. You'd be surprised at how many cool and recognizable pieces were on there. I moved to blow dry my hair, to make sure It had none of the usual curl in it. I had made a point to leave my hair in a tight bun, so they wouldn't know how curly my natural hair was. In actuality, it's a lot like Sherlock's, but, I don't know, maybe in a small act of defiance I decided that they would never see my natural curl. But if tonight went well, I would be back on Mycroft's good side, I would be re-invited back to London, and I could have an attempt at a normal life. I sighed. That would never happen.

I had done some thinking over my own conditions, and had concluded a few things for the ever so slowly growing list: 1) to have an apartment, or flat, or whatever they called it, all to myself. It didn't matter where, as long as it was to myself and didn't have cameras wired all over the place; 2) I really like the detective job that I have now, and it would be a shame giving it up. Item number two is I want a job with the Scotland Yard; 3) I cannot have them constantly bothering me or bombarding me with idiotic questions or motives. Seriously. No; 4) I actually haven't gotten to four yet, but you get the jest. It's a work in progress.

I pulled out my hair straightener and plugged it in so it would get a chance to heat up. I looked in the mirror, at my mess of wavy hair and sighed. This was going to take a while. So while I waited for the straightener to heat up, which generally took a while, I applied makeup. I was about to do what I normally did, just line the eyebrows a bit, some dark blue or grey makeup with mascara and maybe lips, but then thought: _screw it. _I decided to go all out; I did my face the way those makeup videos said you should, lined my eyes and gave it a little wing, and did a very deep, Smokey eye.

When I finished, the straightener had long since warmed up, and I started on my hair, pulling the top lairs up and placing them in a clip, so I could work on straightening my hair layer by layer. By the time I was finished, my normally dark and frizzy hair was dark and shiny and straight, hanging a little below half way down my back. I also straightened my bangs and side brushed them so they swooped across my forehead.

I exited my connected bathroom, went to the floor length mirror in my room and examined myself. I looked hot. Good. I pulled on some socks and pulled my black steel-toed combat boots on over the top. I grabbed my favorite black leather biker jacket and threw it on over a single shoulder, not wanting to put it on yet because I'll get hot, and wanting to keep it with me because I knew that it would get cold, despite the warm day.

I sat on the bed once more and pulled my feet up to my chest, not sure if I was really ready for this yet. The dramatic music that had been playing turned into a soft, rhythmic song from _The Phantom of the Opera_, minus the lyrics. I quietly hummed along.

After it finished, I stood up and sighed. Hopefully this didn't end as bad as I thought it would. I turned off the music and reached to where I had left my phone and checked the time. It was 4:53 PM. Probably time to get going. Sighing again, I grabbed my keys and wallet off my dresser. I tucked the wallet in my back pocket and cautiously made my way out of my room and into the hallway.

The three had obviously dressed up to, despite my warnings of messy food. They were sitting in the living room not saying anything, but instead doing things on their own. Mycroft was texting; no surprise there. Sherlock was surfing the internet on a laptop, looking so bored that was tempted to ask if he wanted to go downstairs and throw some knives. I didn't, however. And the mother was looking through a science magazine that I had left lying around.

I shook my keys to get their attention. "Ready to go?" I asked.

"We are_ not _taking your car." Mycroft said.

"Well, we aren't taking yours. It's not uncommon for fancier cars to get stolen where we're going. And besides, my car is a six seater. Be glad we aren't taking my junk truck." I replied honestly.

"Where exactly are we going?" he asked again.

"If I told you, it would ruin the surprise. Come one." I tossed the keys in the air and went through the door that connected to the garage. They followed me and I opened up the grage. I slid into the driver's seat and waited for them all to get situated in their chosen seats. The boys sat in the back, apparently by mutual decision, and the women sat in the front. I flipped on some classical music as I backed out of the driveway, only to have it turned off from someone in the back. I sighed. This was going to be a long drive.

"You could have told us that the restaurant was in the city, and not just some punk bar," Mycroft mumbled as we walked out of the parking garage.

"Nobody likes a whiner, Mikey," I replied as I pressed the cross walk button.

The distance between where I parked and our destination wasn't far, only two blocks, abut I couldn't find anything closer than that. So we were forced to walk. Sherlock looked pissed, though I couldn't say way, the mother looked slightly curious as to the restaurant I chose, and Mycroft looked indifferent.

As we approached it, i gave them some words of advice. "Alright, so my old friend runs this place, and he was really good to me growing up, so please be nice. And do not, under any circumstances, insult me when he's within hearing distance. The last person who insulted me with him nearby ended up in the hospital with a broken arm, though it was a clean break so I don't know why he screamed so much."

I turned around to see if they had received the message, but the boys simply rolled their eyes. "No, guys, listen," I pleaded with them. They turned their attention to me. "This guy, he's like family to me, so just," I sighed. "_Please _by nice."

'Please' was a word I hardly ever used, and they must have known it to, because they looked more serious at the work, which pleased me. We approached the building, and, sighing again, I pulled open the doors to the famous restaurant of _Braise the Lord. _My favorite, home-style barbecue joint. To which I was bringing my new found family. Talk about a sarcastic yay.

I opened the door to the busy restaurant. It looked as if every table was filled, and there were customers, waiters, and waitresses milling about, delivering dishes and taking orders and such. I hadn't expected it to be this busy. I looked around nervously as the three filed in behind me. I walked over to the host stand, and shortly after a young woman approached.

"How may I help you?" she asked.

"Um, I'm Ann, and, uh-"

She smiled, seeming to know who I was. "How many will be dining?" she asked.

"Four, but-"

"Right this way." She grabbed four menus plus silverware for us all. She also grabbed a pack of crayons and a coloring paper. I grinned, but it was both a happy and confused grin.

She showed us to the table without explaining to me how she knew how I was. We probably had the best table, not to mention my favorite table, in the building, right by a large window that overlooked the bay. Sherlock and Mycroft slid in first, and I elected to sit by Sherlock over Mycroft. The waitress handed us our menus and silverware before walking off.

"Do you know her?" the mother asked, trying to start a conversation.

"No, but she certainly seemed to know me."

"Interesting that we get the best seat in the house," Sherlock observed.

"It seems like this is the type of restaurant that needs reservations, does it not?" Mycroft added. I could feel their intense gaze on me.

"Yes, but-"

"Annie!" A very large, deep, recognizable voice shouted from across the room.

I stood up and looked around for the source, before breaking out into a gigantic grin when I found it. "Joe!" I ran to meet him and squealed when he lifted me up off the ground.

When he set me down I was still grinning like a maniac. "How'd you know I was here?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Ah 'ad de staff save dat seat until da last, and ah 'ave a picture o' you taped up at da front, wid instructuns to get me when you come, any time of da day." He smiled down at me.

Let me explain something, lest you get confused. Joe found me on the streets one night when I had ran away from a particularly bad foster home. He took me to his restaurant, which wasn't as busy as it was now, and sat me down at that seat. He cooked me a meal, and gave me some crayons and paper while I waited for it. And he didn't stop there. Right from the start I knew he was a man to be trusted, so when he said I could stay the night on the couch at his house, I said yes. I'm not saying that it's a good thing my eight year old self did, trusting a stranger, but nothing wrong has ever come from it.

Joe is closer to me than Mr. Joler ever was which is saying something. He's from the south, and didn't come from a very good family himself. I won't go into detail, but he ran away when he was fifteen, from what I gather. But he has the largest heart of anyone I have ever known, and it only goes well with his large stature.

"Well, I'm here now!" I cried out hugging him tightly again. I looked at him. "I have so much to tell you."

"Well, firs' you bedda' introduce me ta yo friends ova dere," he smiled back.

I walked back to the table, guiding him through the mess, holding his hand. "Guys," I said to the trio, gesturing to Joe, "This is Joe. He's my replacement father." I smiled.

"Joe," I said, continuing, "These are my…" I didn't want to come right out and say 'family,' though that's what they are. Family. And I didn't want to say friend either. That left one option. "…Acquaintances…" I finished awkwardly.

Surprisingly, Mycroft and Sherlock behaved themselves, outstretching their hands politely and introducing themselves with a smile, which was appreciated, even though I could see through it, and I knew it was faked. None of them seemed perturbed by me calling them 'acquaintances,' which was an added bonus.

"'Ello, nice to meet cho!" Joe Grinned. "I need to get back into da kitchen, maybe stay afte' so we cin talk, yeah?"

I nodded and smiled at him, and he patted me affectionately on the head before heading back. I turned to the menu to see what I would get this time when I noticed them all staring at me. "What?" I asked, looking up.

"What do you mean _what?" _Sherlock hissed angrily. "_Who is that?" _he demanded.

"Long or short answer?" I sighed, knowing they wouldn't stop until they received their answer.

"Whatever answer you feel will proficiently explain who that man is and why we are eating at this restaurant." Mycroft said.

"And why we automatically got a seat, and why the waitress knew who you were."

I sighed again, and shifted uncomfortably under their gazes. "Can this at least wait until after we order?"

Mycroft was about to speak again, and I could tell he was angry, but his mother stepped in the way. "Mikey, don't be so rude." She turned to me. "Of course that would be alright dear. What do you recommend?"

I looked at her, considering what she could possibly like the best. "Er, maybe the cornbread and chili. It comes in different levels of spiciness, but I think that you should go with mild. The spicy you can't taste anything it burns your mouth so much, and the low heat has almost no spice, which is what makes the place."

"Alright," she said, placing down her menu, shutting it. "I'll trust your judgment." She smiled at me, and I smiled back at her.

Mycroft looked at me, also considering me. I could feel Sherlock's gaze fall on me as well. "And for me?" Sherlock asked.

"I really don't think-" I started, but was interrupted.

"What would I like, Ann? Hmm? Barbecue? Fish? Brisket?" he added with a flourish. I narrowed my eyes at him. It started as a simple question, but now it was obviously a test.

"No. None of those." He raised an eyebrow at me. "No, just listen." I opened his menu and pointed to a meal that had always been my favorite. "This one. Beef stew. It has carrots, red potatoes, marinated cubed beef, and a nice gravy sauce. The vegetables are cooked to where they have this slight bite to them, and the beef is so tender. It comes with some garlic-rosemary mashed potatoes on the side. Best in the world, I swear. It also comes with a roll or two." I added, smiling.

He looked at me for a moment, before turning his eyes back to the menu and glancing over the description, and turned back to me. "Your description sounds much more appetizing." He sat down his menu as well.

I answered Mycroft before he could even open his mouth. "You'd want something barbecue. Something only slightly spicy. But before I recommend something, how's your diet going?"

"Something tells me that tonight it's not going to go well." He mumbled, looking at me with something in his eyes that I couldn't quite put a name to.

I smiled at him. "Well, you're going to want the spare ribs. They're pretty big, so only order a few. It comes with corn-on-the-cob, and garlic mashed potatoes. And to drink, I would get the raspberry lemonade. It contradicts with the spice of the meat."

I gazed at him; everyone did, to see what he would do. After a moment, he let out a sigh and set down his menu. "Fine."

I smiled; it felt like I had just won some sort of battle between us. But I won the battle, so who won the war? I waved over our waitress and she came over with a smile. "Yes?"

"We'd like to order." She brought out her little notebook to write it down. I went around the table, ordering for everyone.

"And for you, miss?" She asked.

"Tell Chef Joe to make me something special." I said with a smile.

Oh, goodness. It seems that I am in a very good mood. I wonder why that is… it's probably Joe, I haven't seen him in six months, he and I have been too busy. But we get to talk later, so that's good, right?

Within five minutes, our drinks came out, and I realized that it was time for the story to come out as well.

"Joe is," I started, gaining everyone's attention, "Well, he's like a second dad. When I ran away from a bad foster home, he took me in until the foster people found me, which was only about a week. I kept visiting him, and he kept letting me. He became my family. And when Mr. Joler came along, we'd all do things together, as a sort of different family. It was good."

"Ann, when you were with foster parents, did they… did they ever beat you?" The mother asked.

I was startled by the concern in her voice. But I dint want her to worry even more, and so even though I knew Sherlock and Mycroft would know, I decided to lie. "No. No, I was never beaten." I gave her a reassuring smile, and just then the food arrived.

Everyone had their plates in front of them except me. I turned to the waitress, about to open my mouth, when she answered. "Yours will be out in a minute, miss."

They all waited until I too had my meal in front of me, which was all too good. He had put a blob of mashed potatoes in the middle, then had pushed it out with a spoon, making it smear across the plate in an attractive manner. He had sliced brisket on the plate over the top of the potatoes, and over the top was what I knew was a gravy that could be used for the biscuits-and-gravy dish he did in the mornings. On one side of the plate was a corn-on-the-cob, and on the other was a light and flaky biscuit, along with red roasted rosemary potatoes, which was called RRRP. It was everything he knew I liked on one plate.

Without waiting for the others to take a bite, I started knowing messily on my corn-of-the-cob. I looked across the table at the mother, who was lifting a bite of chili to her mouth. She chewed with her eyes closed for a moment before opening them and looking at me. "That," she said after swallowing, "Is the most delicious bowl of chili I have ever had." And she dug in for more.

Sherlock looked at his mother, then at his plate. He sighed, taking a scoop of the mashed potatoes and the stew at the same time, obviously thinking it wasn't going to be good. But he ate his exactly the same way I would have eaten mine, combining two aspects to make something good even better. He looked at me as he shoved the spoon into his mouth. He swallowed before saying, "It was _alright." _

I bumped shoulders with him, smiling. "Come on, you know you love it."

He sighed when he looked at me. "Okay, fine. It's really good." And smiled. Actually _smiled. _Talk about different.

Now it was Mycroft's turn, who cut into his ribs before I stopped him. "No, you don't eat it like that, you pick it up on the ends and eat it like that," I told him.

He smiled at me tightly. "Just trusting your judgment once tonight will be enough for me." However, he did as I instructed and took a large bite, chewing it thoughtfully. "Alright, fine. It's good." And we all started to eat with great gusto. _Everything _that was here was either created by Joe, or the recipe was tweaked to make it his own.

When our plates were cleared and leftovers were packed, the restaurant still wouldn't close for another two hours. We spent half an hour of that time devouring a dessert that Joe had sent out, a piece of chocolate cake topped with mint chocolate chip ice cream, and drizzled with chocolate sauce, one for each of us.

The remainder of the time we talked about the adventures I had, or the mother talked about Sherlock and Mycroft while growing up, and possibly every single embarrassing story known to man about them. And the best part was that they couldn't even escape because they were on the inside of the seats.

Joe came out thirty minutes before closing, saying that it was close enough to closing time that he left one of the other chefs in charge. "So wha did cho wanna tell me, Annie?" he asked.

I sighed. "Well, for starters, I got shot a while ago…" I expected him to be out raged.

"Annie, you let choself ge' shot? Silly girl. Thought dat police 'cademy taught cho better dan dat," he laughed and I looked at him in surprise.

"Well, that isn't really it. Joe, this is actually my family. My real one. This is my twin brother Sherlock, and this is my older one, Mycroft. And this is my mother." I gestured to each in turn.

Joe looked at them each carefully before his gaze stopped on the mother. "Have ya got a gud reson for Annie not bein' raised wid her family?"

She nodded. "Ann was kidnapped as a child."

Joe turned to me. "Ya keep givin' me suprisess tanight, Annie, whatchya got to say for yoself?"

I turned to look at him in the eye before shrugging. "It wasn't my fault?"

He smiled and outstretched his arms to me. "Give me some luv, lil' girl,"

I leaned into his arms and buried my head into his chest. I was about to look up when there was the sound of shattering glass, and a force shook Joe. There was screaming from all over the restaurant and the occupants of the table shot up into the air. I backed away and looked around suspiciously. Sherlock put his hands over my eyes and said, "We need to go. Don't look."

"Don't look at what? Joe?" I called out angrily. I tugged at Sherlock's hand over my eyes and tried to tear my arm out of his leading grasp. "Let me go, Sherlock!"

"Someone call 911!" Someone shouted from across the room. There was a lot of running around.

"Sherlock!" I grabbed his arm and twisted it, making his grip loose and I was able to escape his grasp.

"No, Ann-!" he shouted.

But it was too late. I had found what I was looking for. Joe was lying dead on the ground, he head a bloody mess. I looked down at my clothes. They were splattered with blood. _Joe's _blood.

My hands were shaking and I tried to cross the room to Joe, but Sherlock grabbed me around the waist and pulled me back. I couldn't speak. I couldn't cry. I couldn't even blink. All I could do was look at Joe's body lying on the floor in a pool of blood, while Mycroft guided his mother out gently, and Sherlock pulled me back, and I fought all the way.

"No, Joe…" I whispered.

The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the coloring paper I had been given was painted red. Splattered.

**So theres that… hope you don't hate me too much… **

**Also, about Brady being evil now? That was an accident. It just sort of felt that someone had to betray her at one point, so… yeah… awkward…**

**Review, please! **


	9. BUT I DIDN'T APPLY

**So I know that you really haven't seen much of Ann deducing lately, but I plan on fixing that a little bit this chapter. She's also going to act slightly different, mostly because she's returning to her "normal" state from before she got shot. She's a bit like Sherlock, even though they didn't grow up together. She'll get fiercer and be kind of like the Doctor from Doctor Who, where you can't really tell he's angry until he's REALLY angry. But she'll have a nice and sweet and thoughtful side, but it'll show a lot more than Sherlock's does.**

BUT I DIDN'T APPLY

Warm sunlight woke me up, and the birds outside my window were chirping to happily for my quickly shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind. I pushed myself out of bed, threw on a robe and marched to the bathroom to brush away the nasty taste in my mouth.

I looked into the mirror as I finished, and my eyes were accessorized with dark circles, and my hair had curled itself tighter than normal, springing with every movement I made. I exited the room and was immediately greeted by Jack and Lucy, who must have slept outside my door last night when I didn't let them in. I stepped around them and looked around the first floor of my home, and to my great pleasure, I, excluding the dogs, was the only person here.

As I stepped into the kitchen, I noticed a small package sitting on the counter with a slip of paper lying beside it. I studied the paper as I approached: common ruled paper, probably torn from a notebook of mine. It was blank, so when I reached it, I flipped it over, revealing a single elegantly written word: _Sorry._

It was written with a ball point pen, you could tell by the slight divots it had caused. The writing was very nice, beyond elegant, but I didn't recognize it. It wasn't swirly, as a woman's would be, and because I didn't recognize it, that left three possible people: Sherlock, Mycroft, or, though it gave me the chills, Moriarty. However I didn't feel in the mood to find out who the script belonged to, so I sat on a bar stool and moved on to the package.

It was a simple cardboard container with no markings on it. I lifted the lid and found an engraved metal container, with mother-o-pearl lining the sides. Lifting it this box out of the cardboard one, I examined it in further detail.

It was definitely not new, but in excellent condition. Its style pointed to late 1800's. If it was that old, then it was in excellent condition. There were a few small dents and scratches along the sides in the heavy metal, but other than that…

Cautiously I pried open the lid, and to my surprise, it didn't squeak. Inside was a beautiful handgun with gold accents and a matching mother-of-pearl inlay on the grip **(A/N: Dudes I'm gunna' be honest I don't know a lot about guns so I'm not even gunna' try to say what is looks like, other than it's very nice, reliable, and pretty. Sorry.) **. I gasped and lifted it from the box and noticed a black leather holster made of black leather sitting beneath ot. Judging from the inside of the box, it looked to be an old jewelry box, converted to hold the gun.

I smiled at the gift. It, I don't know, made me feel… happy… even so soon after Joe… but I haven't been smiling, a real, not faked smile, ever since I got shot.

I packed the gun back into the ornate box and closed the lid before walking to my room to grab my phone. I pressed and held my number three, speed dialing Lisa. My number one, I know, is voicemail, then Joe at two, then Lisa, Brady, that nice pizza place, and finally Chinese at six.

It rang twice before she picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Lisa. Will you come help me pack? There's a lot to do and I'd rather have company."

Lisa sighed. "My shift is over in about five hours; I'll come over then." She paused and took a breath. "Ann, I heard about Joe from Sherlock, and-"

"I don't want to talk about it." I interrupted her quickly.

"But he died in your arms-"

"Lisa, _please._" My voice cracked.

There was a few seconds of silence before she spoke again, changing the subject. "Mycroft said that I should come with you for your first week in London after you move so I could help you adjust. They showed me a picture of your new 'flat', as they called it, and it could use some fixing up. He just needs to know what you want the carpets and walls like so he can have it ready when we get there. Is that alright?"

"I'd love for you to come with me." I replied honestly. "But, uh, where is the apartment?"

"Didn't say. He just said that it fit all of your 'guidelines.' What do they mean by that?"

I sighed. "No video cameras, alone, and for nobody to visit me." I repeated all that seemed to reply.

She snorted loudly. "Well, that works,"

"What?" I asked, annoyed.

"Nothing," she sang in an innocent tone. "I have to go, but I'll see you later."

"Wait! Will you pick up a crap load of boxes? Please? I have like, thirteen."

"Yeah, alright, Ann. Bye," she laughed.

"Bye." And I hung up.

I walked out into the garage to see if I guessed correctly, picking up all the stray boxes. Low and behold, I was. I brought them inside and pondered where to begin. I decided that I should pack up the books first; they'll probably be the easiest. So I grabbed three of the boxes and packed up those in the tree house, then I moved into the living room which took up four more boxes, and then those in my room took two. I smiled at the fact that my books took up approximately 69 percent of the boxes, and they weren't small ones, either.

Lisa was due to be here in about thirty minutes, so I decided that I might as well start on the stuff underneath my bed. With the remaining four boxes stacked in my arms, I marched there to see if there was anything worth packing. I laid down on my stomach to reach underneath, and something colorful and silver caught my eye, and I smiled as I pulled it out. I bit my lip as I opened the lid of my brightly painted violin case, hoping that none of the strings had broken. I breathed a sigh of relief, as the violin was in the same condition I left it in over a year ago.

I reached over and plucked the A string and made a face. Okay, so maybe not in the exact same condition. I plucked the totally out-of-tune A string again before I decided that I could most decidedly not do it by ear. I picked up my phone and quickly downloaded a tuning app. As I waited, I unlatched the bow and tightened it, then rubbed the rosin up and down the hairs. I looked at the progress the app had made, then put the shoulder rest on the violin as well.

The app opened up, and I pressed the button that would play the constant tuning A and began to tune the violin, which took well over ten minutes, as it was, to say the least, _way _out-of-tune. But eventually the strings were in proper order, and I stood up with the bow and violin in my hands.

But I suppose I should tell you how I actually got to play the violin with all the foster homes that I lived in. One of the first few homes that I went to, that I lived in for about three years, were a musically inclined family, and they wanted everyone in their "family" (they had other foster kids) to play a musical instrument. Chose the violin, because it just felt right. I was six at the time, so they bought me a tiny cheap violin that I could use to learn. I got pretty good before they decided to kick me out, but they were kind enough to allow me to take the violin.

The foster people, from there on after, were always musically inclined, if not only a little bit. And if the families were kind enough, they would take me into the music shop and trade in my violin for a bigger a size. Once I got to Mr. Joler I was long since a size 4/4, which is the biggest size you can get.

Most musical instruments I learned were from the high school orchestra classes I took. I stayed with one family long enough for the teacher teach _vibrato_ to me, and I got pretty good before I was kicked out from the family. Mr. Joler was also musically inclined, and he helped me perfect it before he died.

I placed the violin on my left shoulder and played a few scales to see if all was in order with both the violin and me before I began to play. I played a few random notes, and whatever came to mind, piece or song, I would play. It was a kind of game; you had to familiarize yourself with lots of music, and be able to call one to mind with only a note or two. The few notes that this reminded me of was the song _Think of Me _from _Phantom of the Opera. _

I made a few mistakes, but then again, it's to be expected from a person who hasn't played their instrument in a while and had never set an eye on the corresponding sheet music. I played the piano, too, but I couldn't just sit down and play it like I could the violin.

I played the song through again, and this time I made no mistakes. I smiled as I lowered the violin and set it on the bed, then my thoughts were interrupted by somebody clapping enthusiastically from the door way. I looked up in alarm, only to see that it was Lisa.

She smiled brightly at me. "I haven't seen you play that in ages! Oh, I hope you don't mind, but as you see, i let myself in."

I smirked at her, picked up the case from the floor, and began to pack it away. "Whatever. I gave you a key for a reason." I closed the lid. "Let's get started."

She grinned and plugged her phone into the radio jack in the living room and chose and chose an upbeat like. That took _way _longer than expected. We decided to call Brady and see if he was available to help us as aw well; he was.

Once Brady arrived, we moved to the upstairs and began to pack up in my office. When we were almost finished, I realized something. "Crap." I muttered at the thought.

Brady and Lisa turned to see what was wrong. "Ann?" Brady asked with a concerned voice.

I waved them off. "It's just that, ugh, I need to clean up my desk at work as well. And you know who that means…" I said ominously.

"Jerry…" the replied in the same tone of disgust.

Jerry Asled. He worked for the police force, but he really shouldn't. He was always "flirting" with me, or what _he _calls "flirting" and _I _call "sexual harassment". He had received a couple "talking tos" by the Chief, but he never seemed to stop. I had yet to either punch him or file a report because, even though he's so inappropriate, he's good at what he does. But I have a lot of pent up anger at him. Maybe today was the day he finally gets to taste my fist.

"I can do it for you, if you want, Ann," Brady offered.

I smiled at him. "Naw. But you can come with." I looked at the clock on the wall. "It's still open down there; wanna' head down now?"

"Sure." Lisa stood up, wiping her hands on her pants. "I could use a break."

We drove down to the station discussing the popular topic of what we would do in London. After each adventure was added to the list, I in turn listed the possibilities that it could happen; they were never very high.

We arrived at the station, and before I could even move, Brady was at the door, holding it open for me. I rolled my eyes at him in a teasing manner as I exited the car.

"First thing's first." I mutter as I step in the building and head to the Chief's office.

I threw open the doors dramatically, hardly noticing that the Chief was talking to somebody. "I'm resigning!" I shouted with a flourish, trying to look as intimidating as possible in a bath robe. "Do you accept?!"

The Chief glared at me and rolled his eyes. "No." he said decidedly. "The same as last time, and the time before. Shouldn't you be resting?"

I groaned and noticed Brady and Lisa laughing silently out of the corner of my eye. I scowled and returned my gaze to the Chief. "Resting is for idiots, and I am, possibly, everything _but _idiotic. Accept my resignation!"

The Chief sighed deeply. "No, Ann."

I groaned again, preparing myself to begin a long rant, but the forgotten presence interrupted me. "Is this her, then?"

I turned to face the man, regarding him carefully under my gaze, which he met. "Yes, this is her." The Chief told him. He turned to me. "Ann, this is Detective Lestrade of Scotland Yard."

Lestrade stuck out his hand, which I took warily. "So you're Sherlock's sister? What was it like growing up with him? An annoying little prick, was he?"

I cocked my head at his question. One: he's speaking of Sherlock in past terms, he still thinks that he's dead. Interesting. Two: he believes that I grew up with Sherlock; what had he been told? I chose to avoid his question. "What exactly do you want, Lestrade?"

He shrugged. "It's more like what you want. Someone called the department and they asked me to come and pick up a new recruited in the States. Not really my division, but what can you do?" His gaze was considering me now. "Said you could deduce like your brothers. Prove it." He added smugly.

"Are you sure, detective?" I asked.

"Go right ahead," he spread his arms out wide.

I looked at him, his motions, and his eyes for approximately 7.5 seconds before speaking. "To keep it quick, you're having issues with your ex-wife; you haven't been sleeping well, nightmares, probably; You've been to this area before, and you recall it well enough to not need a map; you're staying in the bed and breakfast around the corner, and you were planning to go to the bar after this meeting." I gave him a sarcastic bow.

I expected him to get angry at me, as most people did when I deduced them, but his reaction wasn't quite what I expected. He blinked, and then started laughing uncontrollably. I stepped back in alarm.

"Oh, that was refreshing! Haven't had that done in a while!" he said as his laughter died down. He took a deep breath and stuck out his hand to me. "Welcome to the Yard."

I ignored his hand and replied dryly: "But I didn't apply." At the same time the Chief said: "Are you serious?!"

I looked at him in surprise as he stood up, nearly knocking his chair to the floor. "You're the beast detective here! We can't lose you, to another country, no less!"  
I straightened up and looked at him. "Alice has potential. Just a bit. If you give her my roll, I'm sure she'd fill it nicely." I turned and started to make my way out. "Come on, Lestly, Brady, Lisa. Let's go."

"Alice? _The receptionist?!" _The Chief shouted after me as Lestrade said in a confused tone: "Lestly?"

"She's a brilliant receptionist!" I shouted back as I walked over to my desk to gather my things. I popped open a box that Brady had thought to bring and began emptying drawers of all of my belongings and dumping them messily into the box.

"Ann, you can't leave! Alice has no training, and-"the Chief followed me out.

I sighed and moved out of my desk space, and stood where Alice could see all of me. "Alice," I called to get her attention, "What was I doing before I came here?" I continued when she looked up.

"Erm… now?" she asked nervously. She looked around, and noticed that nearly the whole office was looking at the two of us.

"Yes. _What was I doing before I came here?" _I repeated the question for her, and she blushed under the unwanted attention.

She looked at me nervously in the eyes, and I nodded at her encouragingly. She studied me a moment before speaking. "Erm, you're slightly hunched over, and normally your posture is straight. You were moving something heavy?"

"Can you go into more detail?" I asked.

"More?!" she squeaked, turning beet red. "Umm… you were packing? There's a slip of cardboard on your robe, and you've got black marks all over your hands from writing on them…"

She jumped as I clapped my hands. "Brilliant!" I turned back to the Chief. "See?!" I dumped the remainder of my personal items into the box. "Let's go, guys."

But as I turned to walk out, I bumped into someone, causing me to drop my box. "Where are you going?" he inquired, his garbage breath infiltrating my nostrils.

_Jerry! _I swore quietly under my breath. I looked up and smiled sweetly. "Oh, nothing! I'm just moving as far away from you as I can at the moment!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And where's that?" I flinched as he dragged a finger across my lips and down my neck. _Just a moment longer…_

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I said to infuriate him.

He grabbed my around the waist and pulled me against his chest. "Well, if it's your last night… how about we… you know…"

I felt everyone's gaze on us, seeing what I would do. I pushed him away and said: "You know, I have a better idea."

"What?"

"This." I brought my fist up and punched him as hard as I could in his nose, hoping to break it. He fell to the ground as I hugged my fist to my chest, trying to dull the pain. "Idiot."

Someone started clapping in the corner in the office, and soon everyone joined in enthusiastically. I ignored them as best as I could while I pulled Jerry up by his collar. "_If you ever, _ever, _treat _anybody _like that again, I will kill you. Go it?!" _ I said so only our ears could hear.

He nodded rapidly in a scared manner while blood flowed freely down his chin and onto his shirt, and I threw him back on the floor, and picked up the box with one hand and stretched out the other fist that I had hit him with. I gave a smile and bowed to the office. "Bye, everyone!" and I received another round of clapping as I walked out the door and slid into the driver's seat of the car.

"Come on, Lestly!" I called back to him.

"I have a car," he tried to protest.

"No, you took a cab." I gave him a pointed look and he climbed in the car.

Lisa got shot-gun, Lestly got the seat behind me, and Brady sat behind Lisa. "So, Lestly," I started, pulling out of the parking lot. "To the bed and breakfast or my house, to help me pack?"

"Packing isn't my division." He said, relaxing into the seat.

"No, but evidently Lisa is," I replied.

"What?" Lisa asked who wasn't packing attention and hadn't heard what I just said.

"Nothing," Lestly replied hastily, glaring at me through the adjustable mirror, and I grinned back.

He looked at me a moment longer before nodding his head. "Fine. I'll help."

"Alright-y then, to home it is."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

As I drove up to my home, I noticed a sleek black car sitting in my drive way, and I started to panic. I quickly parked the car and got out. "Stay here." I commanded them before running into my house.

They were all waiting in the living room. "Sherlock!" I shouted just as the door closed.

The three looked up in apparent alarm. I located Sherlock, grabbed his collar, and began dragging him to the back door. _"What are you doing?!" _he tried to get out of my grip.

"_Lestrade is here, you blithering idiot!" _I shoved him out the back door.

"_What?!" _ he re-entered the room and stalked over angrily over to Mycroft.

"Did I forget to tell you about that?" he said coolly.

"Sherlock, you need to go! You're dead! He doesn't know your alive!" I shouted.

"What is he doing at your house?!" he shouted back.

"He's helping me pack!"

"Why?!"

"Because I asked if he would and he agreed!"

"Ann," the door opened and Lestrade pressed through. We froze and looked at the door, wide-eyed. "We heard shouting, and-" his eyes narrowed as they landed on Sherlock. Both swore under their breath at the same time.

"You little **Add own swear-word****Add own noun**!" he crossed the room and made a move to punch Sherlock, and he ducked, just being barely missed, and I pinned Lestly to the ground. "You were dead!" his voice came out muffled.

"Now, now, Lestly, we need to calm down," I soothed him.

"But he was-" he started as Sherlock muttered "Lestly?"

"Calm. Down." I commanded him.

He took a few deep breaths, and after a moment, he said: "I'm calm."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes. Let me up, please." I did and stood up, brushing off my pants.

Lestly looked at Sherlock. "You're still a **same swear-word Same noun.**"

"Yes, I gathered." He replied with a tight-lipped smile.

"Erm, this is rather awkward…" Lisa said from the doorway, who had just watched the scene, with Brady behind her.

"Yes," I agreed. "Anyone for some tea?"

**So I introduced Lestrade a little bit early, but you have to admit, it was slightly more exciting than the version they showed on TV. Next chapter will be the big move, and I'll be introducing another OC as well. If you have any question**


	10. APPROXIMATELY 10 HOURS AND 21 MIN: Pt 1

**So today, out of shear boredom, I went through and re-read my published chapters, and honestly, I feel like I have to apologize. Mistake after mistake were made, and at one point I switched perspectives! I'm so sorry! I don't really read through them, I just go through and fix the spelling mistakes! But I'll try and remember to re-read my chapters before posting them so you don't have to stumble along the words! And this is where reviews come in handy! Somebody could have told me that I made grammatically mistakes! So next time I do, tell me, please! Also, this chapter was going to end up being way longer than it is now, so I'm going to make it in two parts. Enjoy, and please review! **

APPROXIMATELY 10 HOURS AND 21 MINUTES: PART ONE

The rest of the day and the next were spent packing up my things that would fit into the boxes in the boxes, excepting a few changes of clothes and Jack and Lucy's dishes for food and water. The house had been put up for sale, and had already received two offers. On the third day, another offer came in, a family who couldn't afford as much, but had triplet boys who all wanted their own room. I accepted that one immediately.

The movers were packing up the furniture and boxes to ship to London. I guess my little rant the other night changed Mycroft's mind about not letting me bring much, now that I was getting my own place. I had decided on a soft beige carpet that didn't stain easily, and the same black tile in the kitchen and bathroom. The walls would be covered in a white, so I could put whatever I wanted to on them myself, and a single wall would be covered in white-board paint, so I could easily draw on it and not get in trouble with the land lady/lord.

I decided to spend my last few hours in this city at the park, because the sun was shining, and I heard London didn't have much of that. I nabbed a leftover loaf of bread and walked across the street in the direction of the duck pond. I sat down near the edge of the pond, and began throwing little pieces of bread out. I felt guilty not bringing Jack and Lucy, but they would have scared of the ducks, so I didn't feel to guilty.

The pond was seemingly out of adult ducks, what with all the ducklings swimming around behind their mothers. As I threw bits of bread to them, some of the ducklings came close enough to pet, but I knew that their mother's wouldn't like that, so I left them alone, no matter how tempted I was to touch their fluffiness.

After about twenty minutes, all the bread was gone, so I stood up and walked away, throwing away the empty bread bag in the process. I pondered what to do next; the flowers were blooming in the flower and herb garden, there's an ice-cream shop, a carousel…

I decided that I would walk through the gardens on my way for one last milkshake at my favorite ice-cream place. The tulips and daffodils were already blooming, and it looked like they were the only flowers in the garden, save for the fact that there were little sprouts of other plants popping up here and there. I stopped to admire a particularly pretty flower, when something large ran into me, nearly knocking me to the ground, if it, they, hadn't had caught me.

I looked up and saw somebody in a well made suit. It had happened to me before, a man knocking into me and telling me to look where I was going, so I hastily stepped out of his way and started on my own. I learned that they usually held their tongues if you apologized quickly, so I did.

"Sorry!" he replied, calling after me. "Hey, wait!" he grabbed my wrist, and I turned at the unexpected touch. My eyes met those of a man with short dark hair and beautiful brown eyes. He had freckling across the bridge of his nose, nice cheek bones, and eyebrows, too. _2/4 qualities that make a hot man, _I thought. _Well, at least in my opinion._ He dropped my wrist once he was sure I wasn't going away.

"Sorry, but do you know anyone by the name of Ann Holmes?" he asked in a polite British accent.

I let a breath of air puff out of my nose, frustrated. What was up with all these British men inquiring about me? I mean, not that I'm complaining… "Yes…" I said uncertainly, unsure of his motives.

He nodded. "Would you mind sending me in her direction? I need to speak to her."

"Well, would you mind me asking who you are first?"

He cocked his head at me. "Yes, yes I would mind."

"Well, then I'm afraid I can't help you, sir. She's been attacked in her home before, mind you."

He let out a sigh of frustration. "Fine. I'm an old family friend."

"No you aren't."

His eyes narrowed. "How would you know?"

"Because I've never met you a day in my life! Family friend! Sure!" I said, letting the act drop.

He blinked. "You're Ann Holmes?"

I gave a sarcastic curtsy and smile. "At your service." I said in a faked British accent.

He brought his hand up to his forehead and rubbed it slightly. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

"You're absolutely right! It has been fun, but unfortunately I'm going to get as far away from you as possible!" I turned my back on him and began walking speedily to the ice-cream parlor.

I heard him groan and began to chase after me, and I called behind myself: 'I could call you in for stalking me!"

"I'm not stalking you!" he shouted back. "I was hired by your brother-"

That got my attention. I stopped in my tracks and turned around while he closed the distance between us. "Which brother?" I asked him.

"Does it matter?" he asked, stopping in front of me.

"Of course it matters! Which brother?" I repeated the question.

"Fine, Mycroft. Happy?"

"No," I spoke honestly to him and sneered. But I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Why were you hired?" I began walking again in the direction of the parlor, and he fell in step by my side.

"To be your new bodyguard slash driver, or in other words, babysitter." He replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"I don't need a babysitter, or a body guard, for that matter." I glared at him.

"So I've been told. And with all due respect," he flashed me a teasing grin, "It's a lot harder to drive on the opposite side of the road than you'd think."

My glare intensified as I said: "And let me guess. You know from experience."

He nodded and looked at the path in front of us. "But I don't need a body guard." I told him.

"Yeah, right," he scoffed, looking me over.

"What? You don't believe it?!"

"I'll believe it when I see it." He replied. "And by the trouble you cause that I've been told about, I most definitely will, at one point or another."

"I've thrown serial killers in jail," I challenged.

"Is that so?" he replied in annoying tone.

"It is so! I've also thrown in sufferable pigs like you in jail as well!" I increased my pace so I wouldn't have to walk by him after I pick-pocketed his wallet and tucked it into my coat pocket.

I could feel his eye roll but was grateful when he fell in-step behind me, not beside me. "Ooh, that was a mean one. I feel quite offended right now." He said in a sarcastic tone. I ignored him and kept walking, and he kept talking. "Where are we going? Are we going to that ice-cream shop? I've never really been a fan of the stuff myself,"

"Okay, I'm just going to block you out right now, all your negativity is really distracting me." The ice-cream parlor appeared in sights and I almost sighed in relief. I would (hopefully) be able to get rid of this guy here, right?

Wrong. I stepped inside the shop and he stepped in after me. "Charlotte, can I get the usual with extra whipped-cream?" I called to the owner as I stepped into the busy shop. I looked around and was faced with many middle through high school students and looked at my watch: 3:23 pm. School is out by now.

"Absolutely!" She called back.

"Ann! Over here!" a voice called from one of the tables. I looked over and found the high-school robotics club sitting at a table, all enjoying dished ice-cream and fiddling with legos as they ate it.

I walked over to the table and leaned on the high bar table. "Hey, guys! What's up?" I greeted them.

A petite red-haired girl named JoAnna leaned over to me and stage-whispered: _"Is that your boyfriend?" _all the boys at the table laughed and I crinkled my nose in disgust, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw what's-his-face smirk.

"Oh, I should hope not. He's a pig. What about you, Jo," I called her by her nick-name. "Did you mange to hook up with any of these geeks yet?" I referred to the rest of the club, who were all geeks.

"Hey!" a boy named Timothy exclaimed. "We prefer the word _intellectual."_

I rolled my eyes. "Justin, how did that competition last week go? Sorry I missed it, I was kind of shot."

He smiled. "Yeah, we heard about that. We were meaning to visit you, I swear. But I place first in one, and second in the other two."

"Hey, congrats!" I held out my fist for him to fist bump.

"Hey, Ann, we heard you were moving, too. Is that true?" JoAnna asked.

I placed my hand over my heart and swooned dramatically. "Alas, my dear Geek Squad, I can put the rumors to rest. They are true." The whole table groaned. "But hey! I'm not changing my e-mail or cell-phone number! You can still contact me!"

"Yeah, but you won't be here! It's not the same…" A boy named Austin said sadly.

"Oh, cheer up. I still plan on visiting every once in a while. Maybe by then you guys can learn to talk to ladies other than Jo." I teased the group.

"Jo is not a lady. She is, well, Jo. She doesn't count." Timothy explained to me.

I rolled my eyes. 'Whatever, you dork. I'm going to go eat my milkshake. I'll see you later."

"Not if I see you first!" A boy named Jamie called after me.

I walked up to the counter, where Charlotte was just finishing my milkshake. "I heard you were moving away," she commented as she laid her arms on the counter.

"Yup. England. Land of hot accents and polite manners."

She laughed. "That's too bad," she said sadly. I took a sip from the milkshake, which was just the way I liked it, a prominent orange flavor with vanilla, and thicker than the usual milkshake. Perfection.

"Listen, I never really thanked you for-"

"You've thanked me enough." I told her.

"But-"

"No buts. You've thanked me plenty."

She smiled before noticing the figure behind me. She raised an eyebrow. "Anything for your gentleman friend?"

I puffed out my breath. "He's not my friend. I wouldn't even consider him an acquaintance.

"You wound me, Madame. And no, I don't want anything, thank you." His voice came from behind me.

I sighed. "Give him the classic. Hold the sprinkles- no, on second thought, put only pink ones on it. Extra caramel."

She widened her eyes in faked horror. "Do you think he'll be able to _handle _the classic?"

"Oh, I certainly hope so."

She got started on it with a smile as I heard his voice behind me. "I said I didn't want any,"

I rolled my eyes at him. "You know you want some. Don't try to lie. I can see it in your soul."

He rolled his eyes at me as well, and stuffed his hands into his pants pockets again. As Charlotte pushed the sundae to me I said: "And I hope you don't mind," I pulled out his wallet and pulled out an American ten dollar bill amidst the British currency. "You're paying," I looked at his ID. "William Smith."

"Hey!" he snatched the wallet from me but not the ten dollar bill, which I handed to Charlotte.

I grabbed his and my ice-cream and brought them to a table near the door, calling out a thank you to Charlotte as I left the counter. "Here's your change," I pushed a five dollar bill to him, "And here's your sundae."

He scowled at me. "Hey, I know the felling, man," a high school student sympathized with him. "She stole my cheat sheet for a test, which I spent hours making it look like a label for Vitamin Water."

William looked at me and I nodded, sipping on my shake while I watched the exchange. It was really quite clever, I almost didn't notice it, but I'm pretty sure that carbon monoxide isn't an ingredient in making Vitamin Water. "It's not really the same thing," he told the student.

"Naw. But she's pretty cool." The student smiled at me before returning to his conversation with his friends.

William glared at me while I sipped my milkshake innocently. "Try the sundae, dude, they're good," I commanded him. "And if you don't eat it, then I'll have to eat it, and then I shall get fat then blame it on you forever."

"Yeah, I really don't have a problem with that." He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"I'll fire you if you don't try it," I threatened.

He scoffed, but leaned forward. "You don't have the authority to fire me. I was hired by Mr. Holmes, so I can only be fired my Mr. Holmes."

I rubbed my face with my hands; tired of this idiotic man that I unfortunately knew I was going to spend a lot of time with. "Try it for all mankind then, I don't know! If you don't start soon the hot fudge is going to cool down and then it won't be good at all."

He glared at me a moment before he took the leap of faith, and stuffed a spoonful of the ice-cream with whipped cream, caramel, hot fudge, and pink sprinkles in into his mouth. He swallowed, and after a moment, said: "Alright. It's not as bad as it _could _be."

"Thank goodness. I was worried that I would have to take one for the team and eat it myself, then get fat, then blame it on you forever, even after I've long since burned off the calories throwing serial killers into prison." I rambled before sipping my shake loudly as he continued eating his sundae.

There was a moment of very awkward silence before he broke it with his awful British voice. "So what did you do for that woman? Charlotte?" he asked.

"Oh. Well, when she was away for the weekend, her husband and younger son were murdered. I caught the killer." I slurped my milkshake.

He raised an eyebrow, seeming to be interested. "Who was it?"

"It-" I hesitated. "It was the other son."

He blinked. "How old was he?"

"He was, he was 12." I answered sadly. I stirred the rest of my milkshake with my straw, remembering what had happened.

"Only 12? Why did he do it?"

"He had mind problems. He, he hung himself while he was being detained. To say the least, I wasn't really celebrating putting a 12 year old behind bars, even for a little bit, for murdering his family.'

"So all of her family is dead?" he pushed aside the near empty dish of ice-cream, disinterested now.

"No, no. She took her daughter with her on the weekend trip, thank goodness." I checked my watch, and pushed aside the remainder of my milkshake. "It's time for me to go." I stood up and began walking to the door. "Bye, Geek Squad, by Charlotte, by everyone else!" I called back, and received multiple different goodbyes and farewells.

I started the short walk back to my home, only to aware that William was walking behind me. After a minute of silent walking, I arrived at my house, and walked into the garage and quickly grabbed Lucy's and Jack's leashes. "Stay here," I told William. "I need to get my dogs into their kennels, and they really like new people."

He nodded, and I quickly opened the gate and shuffled in, immediately shutting it after me. "Jack! Lucy!" I called, shaking their leashes as they ran over excitedly. "Hello, puppies," I crooned while I connected their leashes to their collars.

"Say goodbye to the backyard, guys. Chances are you won't be seeing it again," I told them as I lead them through the gate and into the garage, where I housed their kennels. Both were trying to go over to William, hoping to greet them, but a sharp call of their name got them back on task.

But when they discovered what their fate was, all locked up in a teeny kennel, they started pulling on their leashes and tried to get away. Lucy was easy to get into the kennel, she was so small that I just picked her up and stuffed her _politely _into the kennel. She immediately started whining as I disconnected her leash and closed the door on her.

Jack, however, was a totally different story. I could feel William's amused gaze on me as I tried to convince the opinionated dog to go in. But suddenly, the collar slipped off his neck, and he was off running towards William. "Jack!" I shouted after him as I got off the floor. When he didn't even do much as falter in his steps, I tried a different approach. "Wilma, catch him!"

But what only made me upset more was that he didn't have to catch Jack. He simply held out his hand, and Jack ran right over to him, much to my chagrin. Wilma – I like that nickname, I think I'm going to keep it – patted Jack's head and lead him back over to the garage, where he calmly lead Jack into his kennel, without any fuss, as well! "Show off," I muttered beneath my breath as I watched the scene progress.

"Wilma, I'm going to do a walkthrough of the house to see if the movers missed anything. You're not welcome to help. I should be no longer than 30 minutes, so do whatever it is that British people do while you wait." Without waiting for a reply, I walked through the door that connected the door to my home, and began a once-over of all the floors, and to my great pleasure, Wilma was no longer stalking me. When I found nothing, I went to the backyard to quickly check the tree house.

I scaled the make-shift ladder and looked around the smaller house as well. There was a large black sharpie on a table, and after a moment of consideration, I picked it up. The family had three boys, right? I decided to give them a little present.

I turned to a painted plywood wall at random, and began to sketch. On one side of the wall, I drew a knight fighting a large and ferocious dragon, and on the other side, I drew a large and impressive looking castle, where another dragon was flying around. I took a step back to admire it, and decided that I would do a picture for each of them.

So I turned to the wall opposite, which just happened to be the one with a window. I sketched a chemistry lab, one with test tubes and beakers and microscopes. When I finished, I turned to the wall that was covered from wall to wall with shelves, and pondered what to do. I smiled as I thought of an idea. In, over, and on the shelves I drew little foot/paw prints, and I drew little magnifying glass on one, and other things that might relate to crime solving.

When I had finished, I looked at my watch, and my thirty minutes had long since been up, but I wanted to do one last thing. I walked over to where the door stood, and in large letters, wrote: _TAKE CARE OF THIS HOUSE. _I turned and admired the sketches when a sharp "Ann!" cut through the silence.

"This is not doing a quick once-over." He grabbed my wrist and began to pull me to the exit. "We need to go, _now. _We're already late picking up your friend as well."

"You came up here in a suit?" I asked incredulously.

He gave me a look of exasperation before climbing down the make-shift ladder. He started on his way back to the front yard, and I followed after him. He walked through the gate, and was kind enough to hold it open for me as I made my through. My pile of things had mysteriously disappeared, and I turned to ask Wilma where they were when he answered.

"Your crap is in the back of the car. So are your dogs." He said in a rude tone.

I walked over to the back seat of the car, but stopped just outside of it. "Are you alright?" I asked Wilma.

He stopped in his tracks and looked at me in surprise. "What?"

"Well," I started remembering when I first met him. "You weren't quite as mean earlier… did I do something?" I always tended to do things that offended people without trying.

"Err… no… it's just that we're late, and we need to go. Now, if you don't mind." He opened my door for me and I climbed in.

I buckled up my seat belt as he walked hurriedly around the car to the driver's seat. "And I'm not mean." He told me as he slid into his seat and started the car. But before he left the drive-way, he reached over and popped open the glove-compartment, pulled out a paper, and handed it to me. "I also figured that you might want proof that I'm not some stalker." He smiled wryly at me as I accepted the paper, and he backed out of the drive-way and onto the road. I scanned through the document quickly, and what he said was true, he was my legal bodyguard and driver, or according to the paper, in what I call fancy people terms, my chauffeur.

I laid the paper on the shotgun seat and was bringing out my phone to text Lisa that we were on our way when Wilma interrupted my thoughts. "Which way to her house?" he asked.

"Don't you have a GPS you can use?" I pondered as I quickly sent the text to Lisa.

"From my experience, they aren't ever as reliable as you'd think." He answered, continuing in the same direction.

"True, true. Stay on this road and after ten blocks, turn left." I replied.

My phone buzzed, and I opened up the new message I received. It was from Lisa, who asked: _Who's we? _I replied: _I'll explain later. See you soon. AH_

I noticed that Wilma had turned left and gave him the next set of directions. Soon we arrived at Lisa's apartment complex. "Flat 2F, right?" he asked for confirmation as he stepped out of the car.

I followed him out, and gave him the answer. "No. More like 5F. And there's no elevator, so it's always fun after grocery shopping." I walked over to the building and started climbing the stairs, Wilma close behind me.

When we reached the top, we were both slightly out of breath. I walked over to Lisa's door and did the knock that Anna did in _Frozen. _"Lisa?" I called through the door with an amused smile on my face. "_Do you wanna' fly to London_?" I sang loudly to the tune of _Do You Wanna' Build a Snowman_, knowing that her neighbors weren't home. "_Come on, let's go away! I haven't seen you lately, we've both been busy, but now's our time to play! Let's go to the land of good manners, and many hot men, we might even meet Matt Smith! Do you wanna' fly to London? It kinda' has to be to London,"_

"I'm coming, Ann!'' she called, and the door swung open.

"_Okay, hi…" _I finished the verse and smiled at her. I turned and looked at Wilma briefly, who looked very confused at what we were doing, if not amused.

She rolled her eyes, and while she handed me her purse and backpack, she started improvising the next verse. "_Yes, I wanna' fly to London!"_ she whispered the next part to me as we made our way down the five flights of stairs. "_But who is that hot guy? Is that the 'we' that you were talking 'bout," _she continued, no longer whispering. "_But besides that, why are you so late?! _Oh, hey, Mr. Wilner!" she nodded to her neighbor before continuing. "_I've just been waiting ages, bored, and alone, just watching the minutes tick by!" _She did the ticking noise with her mouth.

I started the next verse as we landed on ground level. _"Lisa, please, you're such a downer! But he is more so than you! He's my new personal body guard; at least he says he is, but wow! is he so weird!" _

Lisa stole the remainder of the verse while we walked over in the direction of the car. "_I'm sorry, but that's so funny! Is he driver, too? But oh, I can hardly wait! Do you wanna' fly to London?" _we stuffed her things into the trunk of the car, and slid into the car.

"_Yes, I wanna' fly to London…" _I answered her.

"_Okay, hi…." _We sang together, and then erupted into a fit of giggles in the back seat.

**Lisa and Ann are really close friends, and you know how when you're with your friends, you act different than you do with your family? Generally weirder? So, yeah… that was what happened here… hope you didn't find it annoying… anyway, review!**


	11. APPROXIMATELY 10 HOURS AND 21 MIN: Pt 2

**A.N: I'm not even going to say anything about why it took me so long to post. Just sorry, and I hope you enjoy because I have literally no clue where I'm going in this chapter, and the next, too, as they have yet to be written. **

APPROXIMATELY 10 HOURS AND 21 MINUTES

We ignored Wilma's confused and amused glances as he slid into the driver's seat easily, and restarted the car. I sat up and buckled my seat belt, and Lisa followed suit.

"So are we going to the airport, now, Wilma?" I leaned forward to ask. I saw him scowl at his new nickname in the mirror.

"His name is Wilma?" Lisa asked in an incredulous tone.

"Well, yes, he usually goes by William, but he finds Wilma embarrassing, so he tries to keep it secret." I teased.

Lisa crinkled her nose. "Really? Weird…" she said thoughtfully before peering out the window.

"Wilma is not my real name, Miss Lisa, don't listen to her," He tried to intervene the process of another person calling him that.

"Hush, Wilma, you're lowering the IQ of the whole city." I told him frankly.

"Oh, wow. That was uncalled for and rude." He replied as he turned down the street that led to the airport.

"I have to agree, Ann," Lisa told me.

I leaned back in the seat and crossed my arms. "I can't be held responsible for everything that comes out of my mouth at the moment; I'm grieving the recent loss of my family."

"Don't use Joe for an explanation for being rude, Ann, that's horrible!" Lisa shouted at me.

I sighed. "You're right. It is horrible. But we've already discussed that I'm a horrible person many times before, Lisa."

"That's still not a good enough reason to-"

"And what would you have me do, Lisa?" I asked coldly. "Joe wouldn't want me to spend all day weeping my eyes out. And you know very well that I didn't even spend a day mourning for Mr. Joler, so let it go!" I turned to look out the window angrily, fully aware of both of their gazes on me, if only momentarily.

"Do you even have tear glands?" Wilma asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"I am human, contrary to the popular belief." I replied without looking up from the window.

The next ten minutes were spent in thankful silence, and soon we arrived at the airport. We didn't go to the parking garage like everybody else was, however. We went down to a road to a gate was, and a booth next to it. Wilma showed the man inside a badge of some sorts, and he lifted the gate for us to proceed onto the airway.

We drove carefully past the large planes, and after a moment longer Wilma stopped the car next to a rather large private plane. He exited the car, and Lisa and I got the hint that this is the plane that we're taking to England.

Wilma popped open the back of the car and we all grabbed some things, Wilma grabbing the dogs, Lisa her things, and me mine. Wilma guided us up the short set of stairs and into the plane, Lisa dragging her suitcase noisily behind her.

"Why aren't we taking a passenger plane?" I asked as we boarded.

"Because I already own this one, so why ride another?" I heard Mycroft's voice drift out from the cabin.

I rolled my eyes and threw my things unceremoniously into a chair, claiming it mine. I watched as Lisa did the same, except more gently, and as Wilma strapped the dogs into the wall by the rear end of the plane.

The ground seemed to be covered in a soft carpet, so once everyone was situated and Wilma had left the room to go do something, I tossed my shoes off and laid down on the floor with my back on the carpet. "Lisa," I noticed her staring at me with a raised eyebrow and smiled. "Lie with me."

She rolled her eyes and sat on a barstool that was bolted to the ground by the little counter. "No." she replied easily.

I sighed dramatically and closed my eyes. After a moment a heavy set of footprints walked into the cylindrical room. "_Why _are you on the floor?" Mycroft demanded in an exasperated tone.

I started moving my arms and legs as if I was making a snow angel. "Making carpet angels, obviously." I replied without opening my eyes.

"Get up." He kicked my barefoot, and I opened my eyes to glare at him.

"I'm sorry, what was that? You liked the taste of the carpet at my home that you made me sell? Because if you kick me again, I might just give you another treat." I told him without breaking eye contact.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you threatening me?"

"No." I closed my eyes and folded my arms behind my head. "I'm just saying that it will happen. Eventually. Here or there. Some point in the space and time continuum. Definitely."

There was a pause, then a change of subject. "The flight is leaving in ten minutes." Mycroft informed us before leaving the room.

After a moment my eyes flew open and turned to Lisa. "Lisa, come here."

She reached over the counter and grabbed a magazine. "Err, no. I'm going to stay right here."

"Lisa!" I whined, "I'm so bored! I can't stand another minute of this, let alone a whole plane ride!"

"Play your violin." She replied as she turned the page.

"Don't be ridiculous!" I spread out my arms and legs, now sprawled out in a star shape.

"If you don't want to play it, why wouldn't you let the movers take it?"

"Because if they took it, they wouldn't _just _scratch the paint off of it, they would also-"

"Why are you on the floor?" I heard a new voice add to the conversation as they made their way into the room.

"I'm-" I started to reply.

"She's making carpet angels, obviously, mother," I could hear the rude sneer in Sherlock's voice.

I opened and rolled my eyes. "No, I'm not, the carpet is soft, that's why."

"Oh, sure, dear, whatever you like," Mrs. Holmes replied.

I pushed myself up into a sitting position. "Mrs. Holmes?" I asked.

"I wish you'd at least call me mother," she commented as she poured a glass of water for herself and Lisa.

I ignored her comment and continued on. "If Sherlock and I are twins, who was born first?" I raised an eyebrow, looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock shot out of his recently claimed chair. "If you tell her, mum, I swear I'll-"

"So I'm older, then, judging by your reaction?" I asked Sherlock, pushing myself up off the floor and standing up.

"No, you are _not-_"

"Yes, you are. And not by a little bit, either. It was a whole hour before Sherlock was bothered to be born." She replied with a smile.

"So I'm second eldest?" I asked with wide eyes.

When she nodded, I smiled brightly, and I heard Sherlock groan loudly to the side of me. Ignoring him, I turned to look at Lisa, who had cast aside the magazine. "Lisa, do you know what this means? According to Sibling Law, I can tell him what to do!"

Lisa, who was drinking water at the time, snorted, and little drops of water rained down on us. "There is no such thing," she told me while laughing, "as the 'Sibling Law'."

"Of course there is!" I scoffed. "You wouldn't understand because you're ten years younger than your other siblings, therefore you've never had it enforced on yourself because you were the baby, and still are!"

"You never had the 'law' enforced on you, Ann," She replied warily.

I brushed off the suggestion. "No, you're right, and Brady didn't either, single child… but Jo and Jamie told me about it, and so did Tim…" Wilma conveniently entered the plane at this point. "And Wilma has siblings!"

"Wilma?" Sherlock asked, sneering. "What is it with you giving out horrid nicknames?"

"In all fairness, Sherlock, I originally thought your name was Sherl, so you can go ahead and shut up, now."

And because I'm half positive that you don't want to hear about all this sibling rivalry, as there will be much more later, I'm going to skip conveniently to after the plane had set off, and after I had despaired over the fact that the plane ride was going to be approximately 10 hours and 21 minutes.

"So you play the violin?" I heard Mrs. Holmes ask me.

I looked up from my laptop and answered with a wary, yet decisive, yes, and turned back to where Lisa and I were watching the Avengers movie.

"Will you play for us, then?" She asked, interrupting me again.

"No. Have Sherlock play for you." I turned back to the movie.

"How did you know that he played the violin?" she interrupted. Again.

I sighed and pulled out my earphones. "Very good posture, nimble fingers, always taping rhythms with his left hand, and in all honesty, his cheekbones look like they would hold down a violin very well."

"Cheek bones have nothing to do with it." He told me.

"Yeah, but you could still kill somebody with those. I bet you don't have to bring a knife with you anywhere, you could just kill somebody with your cheek bones." I smiled teasingly at him, which he returned with a glare.

"Very amusing." He replied. After a moment, he added, in a surprisingly interested tone: "What kind of violin do you have?"

"None of your business," I replied, and put the earphones back in my ears.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw that he had arched an eyebrow, and stood up. He walked promptly over to my violin case and before I could snatch it away from him, he opened the case and began to examine my instrument. He plucked a few strings, wincing as they sounded out of tune, and was attempting to tune them before I was able to untangle myself from the cords and blankets and stand up.

"This is a well-made violin. Where did you get it?" he asked.

I held out my hand as I answered. "It was given to me from Mr. Joler in his will. May I have it?"

He plucked a few more strings- checking how in tune they were- before he peered down into the f-hole. "Samuel Zygmuntowicz?"

"Yeah, he's a maker from New York. Can I have my violin?"

He reached into the case and began assembling all the things that the violin would need. He put on the chin rest and tightened and rosined the bow. "Sherlock, come on."

He blatantly ignored me and began to play my dark maroon colored violin, and I have to admit, he was pretty good. But that didn't stop me from wanting my violin back.

"Sherlock!" I complained.

His eyebrows pushed together in annoyance and he began to disassemble all of the parts necessary, then loaded it back into the case. He handed it back to me and went to read back in the corner of the plane. I went to sit by Lisa again, keeping the violin case close, then fell asleep soon after, only to be wakened by Sherlock and Mycroft arguing.

But all in all, the 10 hours and approximant 21 minutes weren't as bad as you would think. In fact, they were worse. Much worse. Sherlock and Mycroft seemed to never stop arguing, but it seemed that they only did it when I was near sleep or in it. Jack and Lilly kept whining, so I ended up spreading a blanket on the floor near them and keeping close to give them company.

Yeah. It was totally great.

Not.

But at least the car ride to the Holmes house was quiet: Wilma had left us at the airport to go see his family before he went to London with us, and then Mycroft, in all honesty, who cares where he went. All I know that I was finally able to get some rest without him and Sherlock bickering the entire car ride.

I was asleep when the car lurched to a stop and the engine cut, startling me awake. I yawned, and opened my eyes, and saw that for some reason the sun was rising. I guessed that it was about seven or eight in the morning, and yet all that I wanted to do was sleep.

I rubbed my eyes and in a tired tone, asked: "Are we there yet?"

"Yes, come on. Wake up Lisa." I heard Mrs. Holmes tell me.

I groaned and shifted over to face Lisa. "Lisa. Lisa. Lisa. Lisa. Lisa. Lisa." Each time I said her face, I accompanied it with a not-so-nice poke to the face, but it did its job.

"Uhh… What…" she yawned loudly and she put a hand over her mouth to stifle it. "You had to wake me up _that _way?"

I heard Sherlock and Mrs. Holmes exit the car. "Yeah, now get up. The sun is rising and we're in England." And that seemed to do the trick.

I moved to step outside, closing the door behind me, but immediately regretted my decision. "Ooh, It's freezing!" I said to no one in particular.

"No, the car was just hot." Sherlock told me.

"It's like being in a hot tub then jumping in the pool," Lisa helped as she stepped out of the car as well.

"Of course. Silly me." I turned in a circle to absorb my surroundings: a nice red brick house, with beautiful gardens on either side.

I popped open the back of the car, and swung my violin case over my back with the straps, then grabbed one dog kennel in each hand, extending the wheels on Jack's. I looked up to Mrs. Holmes. "Do you have somewhere that I could let them run around in?"

She nodded and led me through the house, which was nice as well, and out to the backyard, where I set down the kennels and let Jack and Lucy loose, where they began to run around happy at being free once more.

I was then led to a living room area where Lisa already sat in front of the burning fire. I sat down next to her.

"Ann, I believe that I was good enough to not question what you did in America," Mrs. Holmes started bustling around the kitchen, preparing something. "But this is our domain, dear, and generally speaking, what I say, goes. Understand?" She gave both Lisa and I a stern look, and we both nodded in reply, enjoying the warmth from the fire.

"Good." She turned to get out a bowl, and then a few different ingredients, and I assumed that she was making breakfast.

"Do you need some help?" I asked from the couch.

"No," came the reply.

"But do you want some?" I stood up and started walking to the kitchen.

She smiled at me. "That would be wonderful."

Over the next hour we worked on making some cinnamon streusel bread, then when it was almost done in the oven, she gave me the duty of making bacon and eggs and gave directions to Lisa as to where various dining wares were so that she could set the table, while she went upstairs to go tell Sherlock and Robert, Mr. Holmes, that breakfast was done.

As I was draining off the bacon, a shout came from upstairs. "Well, why didn't you tell me she was here?" A voice that I didn't recognize asked.

I didn't hear the reply as I finished the bacon off and put that and the scrambled eggs on a plate the Lisa had handed to me, and we moved to sit down.

"What if he doesn't like me?" I asked Lisa, concerned. All my father figures had been murdered, and I didn't want that to happen to my real one. And I knew that Sherlock and Mycroft didn't like me much – they had already voiced their opinions. And Mrs. Holmes, who knew what she liked? Really?

**Sorry if this chapter sucked. The next one or two will be more filler than anything. But I know John is coming soon, so that's pretty exciting. Just future notice, I may not stick to the TV show as well as I should, because there's a whole new character that I'm throwing in. And sorry if the characters that I'm writing don't stick to their TV versions as well as they should. I really don't know how to fix that. But thanks for all the people who followed AND favorited. It was really nice of you. So review, sorry again it took so long. Bye!**


End file.
